unc; 


noM 


CHARLES  MAJOR 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY    BILL 


i^tlL  OF  CALIF.   LIBRARY,   LOS  ANGELES 


)Ul^pf  Qx*'.   // 


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THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •  BOSTON  •  CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •  SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA  ' 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 


A   STORY   OF   BEARS   AND 
INDIAN   TREASURE 


BY 


CHARLES   MAJOR 

AUTHOR  OF  "WHEN   KNIGHTHOOD   WAS   IN   FLOWER," 

"DOROTHY   VERNON   OF   HADDON    HALL,"   "THE 

BEARS  OF  BLUE   RIVER,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


"No  man  knows  how  much  happiness  there  is  in  the 
world  till  he  hears  the  birds  of  the  wildwood  sing  at 
dawn." 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY    P.    VAN    E.     IVORY 


Nefo  f9ork 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1918 

AH  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1908. 
By  THE  MACM1LLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  October,  1908. 
Reprinted  October,  1914;  J«*,«9*«- 


NottoooB  $«88 

J.  S.  Cushing  Co.  -Berwick  «fc  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


5£cF 
m*  5i/L/23cJ7 


X  TO  MY  WIFE  X 


2131  Of)R 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.    By  the  Fireside 


II.  The  Wolves  and  the  Powder  Keg 

III.  Wyandotte,  the  Indian 

IV.  A  Bear  Fight  in  a  Snowdrift    . 
V.  Lost  in  the  Woods 

VI.  The  Story  of  Blue  Violet 

VII.  The  Flood  and  the  Mother  Bear 

VIII.  Lost  in  the  Cave  .... 

IX.  The  Robbers  in  the  Swamp 

X.  A  Christmas  Dinner  in  the  Woods 
XL  Wyandotte  Once  More 

XII.  Search  for  the  Treasure  . 


i 
27 

58 
76 

94 
109 

133 
164 
208 
249 
280 
3H 


vii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  The  rest  of  the  audience  sat  in  a  circle  in  front  of  the 

hearth" Frontispiece 

PACING  PAGE 

"  I  was  safer  on  top  of  the  bear  than  I  would  be  if  it 

were  on  top  of  me  " 16 

"  We  called  the  donkey  •  Solomon ' "  .        .  34 

"  They  forced  us  to  draw  up  our  feet  so  often  that  Balser 

said  he  felt  as  if  he  was  dancing  a  jig  "   .         .        .      46 

Wyandotte .        .64 

"  He  angrily  tossed  off  the  bearskin "    .        .        .  70 

"  We  had  disturbed  their  sleep,  and  they  could  not  get 

their  eyes  open  " 80 

"  Balser  looked  like  the  incarnation  of  rage  "  90 

"  The  dogs,  too,  were  lost " 96 

"  •  It's  a  bear,  sure  enough ! ' " 104 

"  He  wanted  none  save  a  little  maiden  named '  Ionwah ' "  112 

•  I  led  her  to  the  barren  hills  and  left  her"    .        .        .  122 

"  They  long  for  spring  and  come  out  of  their  burrows  in 

search  of  food  " 140 

"  The  bears  were  as  much  frightened  as  I "    .        .        .     148 

"She  had  come  to  us  for  protection"     .        .        .        .178 

ix 


x  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

" '  Just  as  Wyandotte  described  it! '  whispered  Balser  "  190 

"  At  times  she  allowed  the  horse  to  rest "...  220 

"We  left  our  wagon  and  harness  in  exchange  for  the 

girl" 244 

"  One  hundred  yards  ahead  of  me  was  the  bear "  .         .  266 

"Wild  with  grief  I  took  Mab  in  my  arms  and  started 

home " 272 

"  It  took  us  nearly  a  week  to  get  to  Blue  River  "    .        .  284 

"  He  made  a  thrust  at  me  as  if  he  intended  to  hide  his 

knife-blade  in  my  body " 296 

"We  saw  our  horses  hitched  to  stakes  before  the  door"  314 

"  We  counted  six  hundred  pieces  of  twenty  dollars  each  "  340 


MAP 
Map  of  Wyandotte  Cave 320 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

CHAPTER   I 

BY  THE   FIRESIDE 

My  uncle's  name  was  Thomas  Andrew 
William  Addison.  His  father  and  mother 
had  three  girls  and  only  one  boy,  so  they 
said  they  would  give  him  as  many  names  as 
a  boy  could  stand,  to  make  up,  in  a  manner, 
for  his  deficiency  in  number.  His  play- 
mates, none  of  whom  could  boast  more  than 
one  name,  laughed  at  his  unusual  assort- 
ment. Some  called  him  Tom,  others  Andy, 
and  others  again  found  that  Bill  came  trip- 
pingly on  the  tongue.  In  time  the  three 
names  amalgamated,  and  "  Tom  Andy  Bill " 
fell  permanently  to  his  lot.  My  mother  was 
one  of  Tom  Andy  Bill's  sisters.  She  and 
my  father  dying  when  I  was  very  young, 
my  uncle  took  me  to  "raise,"  and  warmed 
me  in  his  great,  tender  breast. 

Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  was  an  "old  bach- 
elor," though  he  had  reared  a  family  of 
fourteen  children  —  all  adopted.     All  these 


2  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

children  except  one  (of  her  you  will  hear  a 
great  deal  in  these  pages)  were  nieces  or 
nephews  and  grand-nieces  or  grand-nephews 
whose  parents,  like  mine,  had  died.  You  may 
be  sure  every  member  of  the  adopted  family 
worshipped  with  unquestioning  faith  at  the 
shrine  of  "the  Adopter,"  as  some  of  Tom 
Andy  Bill's  older  friends  lovingly  called  him. 

The  mother  instinct  was  so  strong  in  Tom 
Andy  Bill's  heart  that  all  his  friends  regretted 
he  had  never  married.  I  remember  once 
hearing  two  old  ladies  deplore  the  fact.  One 
of  them  said  tenderly :  — 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  too  bad.  He  was  the  like- 
liest young  man  I  ever  knew  —  so  tall  and 
strong  and  gentle.  He  was  like  a  Greek 
statue  in  form,  and  like  a  hero  in  bravery 
and  truthfulness  and  all  that  was  good.  His 
hair  was  dark  and  curled  about  the  finest 
head  and  the  handsomest  face  I  ever  saw. 
No,  he  never  married,  but  he  had  a  sweet- 
heart once  —  yes,  yes,  you  know  the  story. 
Sad,  wasn't  it  ?     So  sad." 

I  had  long  wanted  to  hear  the  story,  and 
frequently  had  tried  to  learn  it;  but  no 
one  of  my  generation  seemed  to  know  it, 
though  many  had  heard  it  mentioned  in  a 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  3 

general  way  as  "  very  sad."  None  of  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill's  generation  would  talk  on 
the  subject  —  all  the  romance,  doubtless,  hav- 
ing oozed  out  of  them. 

Twenty  years  ago,  when  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill  told  the  following  stories,  he  was  quite 
an  old  man,  but  he  was  still  young  in  heart, 
and  strong  and  beautiful  in  person.  He  was 
fully  six  feet  two  inches  high,  and  as  straight 
as  a  gray  ash  arrow.  His  face  was  smooth, 
his  glowing  dark  eyes  had  lost  none  of  their 
lustre,  and  his  great  shock  of  waving  white 
hair  was  a  veritable  halo  of  glory.  Seven 
members  of  the  adopted  family  were  still 
under  his  roof  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak ; 
the  other  seven  had  married,  or,  as  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill  said,  "  had  flown  the  nest." 
Of  the  seven  remaining  under  his  care,  all 
were  grand-nieces  and  grand-nephews  save 
Baby  Mab  and  me.  I  was  a  nephew,  and  Mab 
was  —  but  you  shall  learn  about  her  as  we 
progress.  I'll  let  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  tell 
her  little  story  and  also  the  story  of  his 
sweetheart.     They  will  be  short. 

I  was  teaching  school,  and  learning  short- 
hand at  the  same  time,  so  I  practised,  taking 
down  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill's  stories  of  his 


4  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

boyhood  days  as  he  told  them  to  his  family 
about  a  winter's  fireside,  and  that  is  the  way 
I  happen  to  have  them  to  tell  to  you. 

Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  always  sat  in  his 
great  arm-chair  on  the  right  side  of  the  enor- 
mous fireplace.  He  was  near  the  fire  so  that 
the  smoke  from  his  pipe  would  go  up  the 
chimney.  Next  to  him  —  very,  very  close  — 
sat  Baby  Mab  in  her  tiny  rocking-chair. 
The  rest  of  the  audience,  ranging  in  years 
from  Die,  who  was  ten,  to  myself  (at  that 
time  I  soared  in  the  empyrean  heights  of 
twenty-one),  sat  in  a  circle,  that  is,  a  half 
circle,  in  front  of  the  hearth.  The  fire  fur- 
nished light  and  heat,  and  plenty  of  each. 

The  picture  we  presented,  with  rare  old 
Nestor  on  our  right  flank,  the  dancing  flames 
in  front  lighting  up  our  faces,  and  the  flitting 
shadows  silently  playing  hide-and-seek  in  the 
dark  corners  of  the  room  behind  us,  was  one 
worthy  of  a  master's  brush.  I  wish  I  had 
it  on  canvas. 

I  will  not  try  to  reproduce  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill's  inimitable  dialect,  but  will  give 
you  his  stories  as  I  took  them  down,  redo- 
lent, however,  of  his  manner  and  his  style. 
He  was  a  man  of  much  reading  and  of  con- 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  5 

siderable  culture,  but  he  spoke  the  language 
of  his  friends,  and  cared  a  great  deal  more 
for  what  he  said  than  for  how  he  said  it.  I 
believe  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill's  stories  were, 
in  the  main,  true,  though  on  rare  occasions 
he  may  have  "  idealized "  certain  incidents 
for  the  benefit  of  his  open-eyed,  credulous 
audience.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  resist 
the  temptation  to  create  wonder  in  those 
who  eagerly  believe  all  one  says. 

One  cold  evening,  a  fortnight  before 
Christmas,  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  fell  into  a 
reminiscent  mood,  and  spoke  freely  of  his 
boyhood  days. 

"  That  was  long,  long  ago,  —  fifty-odd 
years  back  in  the  heart  of  time.  You  all 
can't  imagine  how  far  back  fifty  years  is. 
One  has  to  live  seventy  years  to  understand 
what  it  means.  When  a  man  of  seventy 
looks  back  to  his  boyhood,  it  is  like  looking 
down  from  a  great  height  at  men  and  women 
on  the  earth  below.  The  boy  of  fifty  or  sixty 
years  ago  looks  small  and  far  away,  as  if  he 
were  viewed  through  a  spyglass  turned  end 
for  end." 

"  Tell  us  about  the  Indian  treasure,"  sug- 
gested one  of  the  small  boys. 


6  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  You  want  to  hear  about  the  Indian  treas- 
ure, do  you  ? "  asked  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill. 
"  Well,  I'll  begin  at  the  very  beginning  and 
tell  you  all  about  it,  though  it  will  take  a 
great  many  evenings  to  finish  the  story,  and 
many  adventures  will  happen  on  the  way." 

"  The  more,  the  better ! "  shouted  every 
boy  and  girl  in  the  room.  "  And  we  do  want 
you  to  begin  at  the  very  beginning  and  tell 
us  all  about  it  right  up  to  the  end." 

"  And  we  want  a  lot  of  bear  stories,  too," 
said  one  of  the  boys. 

"  Don't  you  hope  it  will  take  all  winter  ?  " 
whispered  one  of  the  small  girls. 

"  Sh !  Sh  !  Sh !  "  came  from  several  pairs 
of  older  lips,  and  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  be- 
gan. 

THE    STORY 

You  see,  father  and  mother  came  up  from 
Carolina  about  the  year  '19  or  '20  and  settled 
here  in  Indiana  on  Blue  River.  I  was  a  little 
fellow,  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  but  I  remem- 
ber it  all  —  all.  We  built  our  cabin  where 
the  old  house  still  stands  —  down  the  river, 
five  miles  from  here,  as  you  all  know.  I 
thought  father  selected  the  spot  close  to  the 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  7 

river  so  that  I  should  not  have  far  to  go 
afishing.  He  probably  had  other  reasons, 
but  you  see  the  one  boy  in  a  family  of  girls  is 
apt  to  think  that  all  the  spheres  of  the  fam- 
ily system  revolve  about  him.  It's  bad  for  a 
boy  to  get  the  notion  into  his  head  that  he 
is  "  the  whole  thing,"  for,  you  see,  he  has  to 
get  it  out  again.  It  is  knocked  out  of  him 
later  in  life,  and  the  more  firmly  the  idea 
becomes  fixed  in  his  head,  the  harder  the 
knocks  must  be  to  loosen  it.  It  cracks 
many  a  fool's  skull  for  good  and  all. 

The  neighbors  for  miles  around  came  to 
help  us  build  our  log  cabin.  When  it  was 
finished  and  the  openings  between  the  logs 
were  well  "  chinked  "  with  mud,  father  built 
a  great  chimney;  then  we  moved  in  and 
were  as  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug.  After  the 
house  was  built,  father  went  to  work  to  make 
a  clearing  by  chopping  down  trees  and  grub- 
bing out  underbrush. 

Oh,  how  I  enjoyed  the  great  bonfires  when 
the  neighbors  came  to  help  at  the  "  log  roll- 
ing." Father  chopped  down  the  trees  and 
cut  them  into  pieces  that  could  be  easily 
handled.  When  the  neighbors  came,  they 
rolled  the  logs  together  and  piled  the  brush ; 


8  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

then  the  torch  was  applied,  and  what  a  sight 
it  was !  Talk  about  your  Fourth  of  July 
fireworks !  Compared  to  our  log  fires,  they 
look  like  a  candle  beside  a  burning  barn. 

Clearing  the  ground  was  hard  work,  but 
father  soon  had  a  fine  patch  of  rich  bottom 
ground  cleared  of  everything  but  stumps. 
Stumps !  They  stood  so  thick  on  the  ground 
that  you  would  have  thought  a  dog  could 
not  wiggle  between  them  in  places,  if  his 
backbone  happened  to  be  stiff.  Here,  dur- 
ing the  first  summer,  father  raised  a  small 
crop  of  corn  and  a  great  number  of  pump- 
kins that  helped  to  keep  us  alive  during  the 
winter. 

Our  chief  support  was  game,  of  which  the 
deep,  black  forests  were  full.  Deer,  quail, 
wild  turkeys,  rabbits,  and  squirrels  infested 
the  whole  country ;  and  father,  in  a  few 
hours'  hunting,  could  easily  fill  our  little 
kitchen  with  more  venison,  as  the  meat  of  all 
wild  game  was  called,  than  we  could  eat  in  a 
month. 

When  I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  father 
bought  a  rifle  for  me  and  began  to  take  me 
out  hunting  with  him.  In  addition  to  ven- 
ison for  the  table,  we  hunted  coons,  wolves, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  9 

foxes,  minks,  and  beavers  for  the  sake  of 
their  fur,  and  father  brought  home  many  a 
dollar  from  the  sale  of  pelts.  In  those  days 
there  were  many  bears,  too,  and  for  several 
reasons  we  loved  to  hunt  them.  They  killed 
our  sheep  and  were  fonder  of  pig  — a  tender 
little  squeaker  —  than  you  all  are  of  circus 
candy.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  them 
away  from  our  little  pigs,  and  that  was  one 
reason  we  liked  to  kill  the  bears.  We  also 
liked  the  meat  of  a  young  fat  bear,  and  a 
good  whole  bearskin  was  worth  ten  shillings, 
that  is,  two  dollars  and  a  half.  If  you  want 
to  know  how  big  two  dollars  and  a  half 
looked  at  that  time,  just  go  out  and  take 
a  peep  at  the  full  moon.  We  loved  to 
hunt  deer,  too,  for  their  meat  was  delicious 
and  their  hides  sold  for  two  shillings  — 
fifty  cents.  Even  fifty  cents  looked  big 
then. 

Father  and  I  killed  many  wolves  and 
foxes,  too,  but  of  all  the  game  that  prowled 
the  forest,  I  loved  best  to  hunt  bear.  There 
was  the  spice  of  danger  in  it,  and  when  we 
killed  a  bear,  we  not  only  felt  proud  of  our 
achievement,  but  we  had  something  worth 
while  for  our  labor. 


io  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

I  remember,  when  I  was  about  fourteen 
years  old,  father  and  I  started  out  one  morn- 
ing to  kill  a  deer.  A  neighbor  boy,  who 
lived  one  mile  down  the  river  from  father's 
house,  accompanied  us.  His  name  was 
Balser  Brent,  and  he  and  I  were  chums. 
He  had  a  beautiful  gun  and  was  a  great 
hunter  for  his  years.  As  I  have  said,  we 
started  out  to  kill  a  deer,  but  we  found  a 
bear.  I  suppose  if  we  had  started  out  for  a 
bear,  we  might  have  found  a  deer,  so  easy  is 
it  to  get  what  one  does  not  seek.  We  got 
what  we  didn't  seek  that  day,  and  got  plenty 
of  it. 

Along  Blue  River  the  settlers  had  built 
several  houses,  and  deer,  being  shy,  are  apt 
to  stray  away  from  the  habitations  of  their 
mortal  enemy,  man.  Therefore,  father, 
Balser,  and  I  walked  over  to  Brandywine 
Creek,  three  or  four  miles  west  of  Blue, 
where  we  hoped  soon  to  kill  a.  deer,  swing  it 
over  a  pole,  and  carry  it  home. 

We  had  with  us  Balser's  dogs,  Tige  and 
Prince,  and  there  were  not  on  all  Blue  River 
two  better  hunters  than  these  intelligent 
animals.  They  would  hunt  anything,  but 
they  agreed  with   Balser  and  me  that   bear 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  n 

was  the  only  game  really  worth  the  prowess 
of  enterprising  men  and  first-class  dogs. 

I  suppose  Tige  and  Prince  knew  we  were 
hunting  deer  that  morning,  and  although 
they  were  willing  to  help,  they  were  not  at 
all  enthusiastic.  They  were  watchful  and 
alert,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  throw  all  their 
energies  into  the  work.  We  had  been  on  the 
banks  of  Brandywine  an  hour  or  two,  but 
had  not  seen  a  deer  even  at  a  distance. 

All  of  us,  including  the  dogs,  were  grow- 
ing tired  and  were  inclined  to  be  listless, 
when  suddenly  I  noticed  new  life  manifest 
itself  in  Tige,  who  was  running  thirty  yards 
ahead  of  us.  He  pricked  up  his  ears  and 
his  whole  body  seemed  to  be  on  the  alert. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  on  three  legs  and 
gave  forth  a  quick,  low  bark,  which  was 
evidently  intended  as  a  remark  to  Prince,  for 
Prince  quickly  bounded  to  his  side,  and 
both  dogs  put  their  noses  to  the  ground  with 
eagerness  and  excitement.  They  consulted 
for  a  moment,  then  they  uttered  another  low, 
quick  bark ;  this  time  they  were  speaking  to 
Balser. 

"  A  bear,  sure  as  you  live,"  said  Balser. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  father. 


12  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  Tige  and  Prince  told  me  so,"  answered 
Balser. 

Father  shook  his  head,  laughed,  and  an- 
swered, "  Nonsense,  dogs  can't  talk." 

"  Can't  they,  though  ? "  returned  Balser. 
"  Now  listen.  I'll  ask  them  if  it's  a  bear, 
and  if  it  is,  they  will  answer  in  a  quick, 
low,  excited  bark,  without  lifting  their  noses 
from  the  ground ;  if  it  is  other  game,  they 
will  lift  their  heads  and  bark  louder,  or  not 
at  all.     Is  it  a  bear,  Tige  ?  " 

Tige  answered  exactly  as  his  master  said 
he  would,  and  Balser  and  I  ran  to  the  dogs. 
We  could  see  no  tracks,  for  the  ground  was 
dry  and  covered  with  leaves.  It  was  the  fall 
of  the  year. 

"Hunt  him,  Tige!  Hunt  him,  Prince!" 
said  Balser,  and  the  dogs  started  rapidly  on 
the  scent,  Balser  and  I  following  as  fast  as 
we  could  run.  Father  had  no  faith  in  dog 
talk,  but  he  walked  rapidly  after  us.  Within 
ten  minutes  we  came  to  a  spring  where  the 
ground  was  soft,  and  when  the  dogs  passed 
over  the  muddy  place,  we  knew  we  could 
soon  prove  or  disprove  their  assertion  con- 
cerning the  bear.  If  they  were  on  the 
right  scent,  we  should  see  bear  tracks.     Sure 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  13 

enough,  the  tracks  were  there  —  great,  long, 
fresh  tracks,  not  more  than  an  hour  old.  I 
can't  explain  how  an  experienced  hunter 
knows  the  age  of  a  track  or  a  "  spoor,"  as 
the  traces  left  by  an  animal  are  often  called 
by  our  Dutch  friends;  but  if  they  are  less 
than  a  day  old,  one  practised  in  the  art  of 
"spooring"  can  guess  the  time  at  which  they 
were  made  and  will  not  miss  it  an  hour. 

"  Father,  father !  "  I  cried,  "  the  dogs  are 
right!  Here  are  the  tracks  of  at  least  two 
bears.  One  of  them  must  be  as  big  as  a 
horse  ;  his  foot  is  as  long  as  my  arm ! " 

"  If  that  is  true,  we  had  better  turn  back," 
said  father,  laughing ;  "  I  don't  want  to  hunt 
a  bear  that  has  a  foot  on  him  as  long  as 
your  arm.  I  like  big  bears,  but  excuse  me, 
please." 

"  Oh,  come  on,  dad !  Do  hurry,"  cried 
I,  starting  off   after    Balser   and    the   dogs. 

Father  stopped  to  examine  the  tracks  and 
was  soon  convinced  that  the  dogs  were  right, 
so  he  followed  us.  The  dogs  were  running 
away  from  us,  so  eager  were  they  in  the 
chase,  and  father  cried  out :  — 

"  Call  the  dogs,  Balser ;  make  them  go 
slowly  so  that  we  can  keep  up  with  them." 


i4  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Balser  whistled  to  the  dogs  and  they 
waited  for  us.  When  we  came  up  to  them, 
off  we  started  again  in  a  great  hurry ;  father 
lagging  behind  perhaps  a  hundred  yards. 
Balser  and  I  kept  close  to  the  dogs,  all  going 
at  a  very  rapid  pace;  and  soon  we  noticed 
a  short  distance  ahead  of  us  a  little  hill. 
Tige  and  Prince  ran  up  the  hill  perhaps 
twenty-five  feet  in  advance  of  Balser  and  me 
who  were  running  side  by  side.  When  the 
dogs  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  they  leaped 
forward  as  if  they  were  jumping  over  a  preci- 
pice ;  at  the  same  time  giving  forth  a  sharp, 
angry  bark,  emphasized  by  a  clear  note  of 
surprise. 

Balser  and  I  felt  sure  the  dogs  had  sighted 
the  bears.  We  knew  that  the  precipice,  if 
there  was  one,  could  not  be  very  high,  or  the 
dogs  would  not  have  taken  it,  so  we  did  not 
slacken  our  speed,  but  in  our  eagerness 
sprang  after  Tige  and  Prince,  and  landed 
squarely  on  two  huge  bears  that  were  lying 
at  the  foot  of  the  low,  rocky  cliff.  Balser 
went  first,  and  I  saw  him  fall  on  the  back 
of  a  black  monster  that  had  risen  to  its 
haunches,  having  been  startled  by  the  dogs. 
Tige  and   Prince  had  jumped  far  over  the 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY  BILL  15 

bears  and  had  landed  at  the  top  of  a  steep 
little  declivity,  down  which  they  rolled  twenty 
or  thirty  feet  to  the  bottom.  They  were  so 
confused  by  their  tumble  that  they  spun 
round  and  round  for  a  moment  like  a  dog 
chasing  its  tail. 

I  was  going  too  fast  to  stop  when  I  saw 
Balser  fall  upon  the  bear,  and  although  I  dis- 
tinctly heard  him  cry  out,  "  Don't  jump, 
Tom  Andy  Bill ! "  I  had  to  jump,  and  down 
I  went.  You  see  I  didn't  want  Balser  to 
have  all  the  fun  of  riding  the  bears,  so 
when  I  fell  I  knocked  him  out  of  the  saddle, 
so  to  speak,  and  took  his  place.  Balser  fell 
toward  the  other  bear,  which  had  also  risen  to 
its  haunches.  In  his  effort  to  roll  away  from 
the  bear,  Balser  came  to  the  top  of  the  little 
hill  and  unceremoniously  rolled  down  after 
the  dogs,  leaving  me  to  ride  the  bear  alone. 

To  say  that  all  of  us,  including  the  bears, 
were  surprised  and  frightened,  doesn't  begin 
to  express  the  true  condition.  I  never  was 
so  scared ;  that  is,  I  never  had  been  up  to 
that  time.  Afterward  I  was, — but  that  will 
come  later.  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  do- 
ing, and  when  I  felt  the  huge  brute  squirm- 
ing and  twisting  under  me  in  its  efforts  to 


16  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

get  on  its  feet,  I  threw  my  arms  about  its 
neck  and  clung  to  it  as  a  trick  rider  clings 
to  a  bucking  horse.  I  don't  know  why  I 
hung  on,  but  instinct  seemed  to  tell  me  that 
I  was  safer  on  top  of  the  bear  than  I  would 
be  if  it  were  on  top  of  me,  so  I  clung  to  its 
back  with  a  persistency  worthy  of  a  better 
cause.  Balser's  gun  had  fallen  from  his 
hands ;  but  mine  was  strapped  across  my 
back,  and  of  course  I  kept  it  with  me. 

The  bears  were  as  badly  frightened  as  we 
were,  so  when  the  black  fellow,  upon  whose 
back  I  was  clinging  like  a  monkey  to  a  goat, 
had  gained  its  feet,  it  instinctively  bolted  for 
safety;  that  is,  it  hurriedly  entered  a  cave 
that  ran  into  the  rocks  at  the  bottom  of  the 
little  precipice  over  which  we  had  so  rashly 
jumped.  Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  I 
still  clung  to  the  bear,  and  into  the  cave  we 
went  together.  Soon  after  the  bear  entered 
the  cave  I  realized  my  danger,  and  knew 
that  I  ought  to  have  dismounted  outside ; 
but  by  the  time  my  slow  brain  had  turned  the 
thought  over,  it  was  too  late,  for  right  back 
of  me  came  the  other  bear,  growling  like 
young  thunder  and  throwing  the  gravel  and 
leaves  about  like  a  thing  possessed. 


I    WAS    IARI    DN    TOP    OF    THE    BKAR    THAN    I    WOULD    Bl    IK    II 
WERE  ON    TOP   OF   ME" 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  ir 

The  cave,  I  afterward  learned,  was  only 
forty  or  fifty  feet  deep,  though  it  was  rather 
dark,  because  the  opening  was  small  and  al- 
most covered  by  overhanging  branches.  But 
I  thought  the  bear  was  carrying  me  to  the 
very  bowels  of  the  earth.  Of  course,  the 
time  which  seemed  so  long  to  me  was  in 
reality  only  a  few  seconds,  but  I  never  want 
to  live  through  another  few  seconds  like 
those.  Presently  my  head  came  in  violent 
contact  with  the  wall  of  the  cave,  and  the 
stones  did  for  me  what  I  ought  to  have  done 
for  myself,  —  that  is,  they  knocked  me  from 
the  bear's  back. 

I  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  cave  for  a  moment, 
half  stunned,  and  the  other  bear  in  its  haste 
walked  right  over  me  as  if  I  were  a  log.  I 
tried  to  rise  to  my  feet,  but  just  at  that 
moment  Tige  and  Prince  entered  the  cave, 
barking  furiously,  and  the  bears  charged 
them  with  equal  ferocity.  In  charging  the 
dogs,  the  bears  also  charged  me,  so  over  I 
went  again  and  the  bears  went  over  me. 
My  buckskin  clothing  was  torn  in  shreds  by 
the  bears  as  they  clawed  me  in  their  efforts 
to  reach  the  dogs,  and  I  was  scratched  and 
bruised  from  head  to  foot.     In  a  moment 


1 8  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

the  dogs  and  bears  were  righting  viciously, 
but  unfortunately  they  were  between  me  and 
the  mouth  of  the  cave.  I  remember  sitting 
on  the  ground  and  wondering  if  Balser  and 
father  would  ever  come  to  my  rescue.  The 
din  raised  by  the  barking  of  the  dogs  and 
the  angry  growling  of  the  bears  was  some- 
thing terrific. 

The  strap  had  broken,  and  my  gun  had 
fallen  two  or  three  yards  from  where  I  sat. 
Instinct  must  have  prompted  me  to  try  to 
get  the  gun,  for  I  am  sure  all  power  of  dis- 
tinct thought  had  been  knocked  and  scratched 
out  of  me.  Although  I  could  not  think  ra- 
tionally, I  vividly  remember  every  little  inci- 
dent connected  with  that  awful  fight  in  the 
cave.  I  remember  crawling  to  my  gun  and 
examining  it  to  see  if  it  was  broken ;  I  re- 
member a  shiver  of  joy  —  it  could  have  been 
nothing  but  a  shiver  —  when  I  found  that 
the  gun  was  uninjured ;  I  also  remember  the 
fight  between  the  dogs  and  the  bears. 

Tige  and  Prince  surely  were  the  bravest 
dogs  that  ever  lived,  and  were  as  nimble 
as  cats.  The  huge,  clumsy  bears  charged 
them,  striking  viciously  with  their  great 
horny  paws,  but  the  dogs  nimbly  retreated 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY    BILL  19 

and  as  nimbly  rushed  back  upon  their  foes, 
inflicting  ugly  wounds  with  their  sharp  teeth, 
and  again  retreating  before  the  bears  could 
deliver  a  deadly  stroke.  Once,  however,  I 
remember  that  the  larger  bear  landed  fairly 
on  poor  Prince,  and  the  devoted  dog  in  turn 
landed  against  the  stone  wall  of  the  cave  with 
a  force  that,  it  seemed  to  me,  would  not  only 
break  every  bone  in  his  body,  but  might  also 
crack  the  rock.  The  poor  dog  lay  stunned 
and  bruised  for  a  moment,  staggered  to  his 
feet,  and  limped  again  into  the  midst  of  the 
fray.  Although  I  had  been  in  the  cave  but 
a  few  seconds,  my  eyes  were  growing  used  to 
the  gloom,  and  as  the  bears  were  between 
me  and  the  light,  I  could  clearly  distinguish 
their  forms. 

I  recovered  my  gun,  and  with  the  familiar 
weapon  once  more  in  my  hands,  rational  con- 
sciousness seemed  to  return.  Then  I  began 
to  cast  around  in  my  mind  for  some  way  to 
help  my  friends,  Tige  and  Prince.  Time 
and  again  the  bears  charged  the  dogs  and 
retreated,  but  when  they  retreated  they 
backed  toward  me  and  often  came  so  close 
to  where  I  was  sitting  that  I  would  gladly 
have    moved    further    into    the    cave    had 


20  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

I  been  able  to  push  the  stone  wall  with 
me. 

When  the  larger  bear  came  very  close  to 
me,  I  hastily  rose  to  my  feet,  but  my  left 
leg  gave  way  under  me  and  down  I  went 
to  the  floor  again.  In  my  excitement  I  felt 
no  pain,  but  I  knew  something  was  wrong 
with  my  leg.  It  had  never  before  deserted 
me  in  time  of  danger,  but  had  always  carried 
me  away  as  fast  as  any  boy  could  run.  I 
never  was  very  brave,  and  there  is  nothing 
so  useful  to  an  inquisitive  coward  as  a  good 
pair  of  legs.  I  do  not  believe  that  one 
should  "  fight  and  run  away,  and  live  to 
fight  another  day " ;  my  motto  always  has 
been,  "  run  away  before  the  fight,  and  keep 
your  skin  all  whole  and  tight."  I  was  disap- 
pointed in  my  leg  for  the  first  time,  and  on 
a  very  important  occasion. 

I  crawled  back  as  far  as  I  could  from 
the  bears  and  sat  upright  with  my  back 
against  the  wall  of  the  cave.  Soon  I  noticed 
that  the  bears  and  the  dogs  were  gradually 
moving  backward  toward  me,  and  I  knew 
that  my  poor  body  would  soon  furnish  them 
a  battle-ground.  They  would  be  fighting 
over  me. 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  21 

Fright  seemed  to  clear  my  brain.  I 
brought  my  gun  to  my  shoulder,  intending  to 
try  to  shoot  one  of  the  bears  in  case  it  came 
near  me.  The  fight  between  the  dogs  and  the 
bears  waged  furiously,  the  bears  alternately 
retreating  toward  me  and  again  charging 
viciously  upon  the  dogs.  For  a  time  the 
bears  did  not  come  as  near  to  me  as  I 
desired  for  a  shot.  I  determined  to  be  sure 
of  my  aim,  for  I  knew  there  was  but  one 
bullet  between  me  and  death  —  the  one  in 
my  gun.  If  I  wounded  the  bear  and  did 
not  kill  it,  I  knew  I  should  not  live  to  load 
another  gun,  so  the  precious  bullet  must  find 
lodgement  either  in  the  brain  or  in  the  heart 
of  the  great  brute. 

Could  I  kill  one  of  the  bears,  the  other 
probably  would  make  a  dash  for  liberty,  or 
the  dogs  would  occupy  its  attention,  and  I 
might  reach  the  mouth  of  the  cave  unmo- 
lested. I  grew  impatient  when  the  bear  did 
not  come  toward  me,  and  after  waiting  a 
short  time  foolishly  resolved  to  fire.  I  had 
raised  my  gun  to  my  shoulder,  when  sud- 
denly the  cave  became  dark  and  I  could 
barely  distinguish  the  form  of  the  bear,  so  I 
lowered  my  gun.     The  next  instant,  with  a 


22  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL 

mixed  feeling  of  horror  and  joy,  I  saw  my 
father's  form  against  the  light,  right  in  line 
with  the  bear.  Had  I  shot  and  missed  the 
bear,  I  surely  should  have  killed  my  father. 

The  bears  also  saw  my  father  and  retreated 
backward  toward  me.  One  of  them,  the 
larger  one,  left  the  fight  first  and  in  its 
haste  at  self-preservation,  came  within  a  yard 
of  me.     Now  was  my  chance  ! 

I  distinctly  remember  saying  to  myself : 
"  Make  haste  slowly,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  for  you 
or  this  bear  will  die  within  the  next  minute." 
I  therefore  deliberately  brought  my  gun  to 
my  shoulder,  aimed  as  accurately  as  possible 
at  the  bear's  heart,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
There  was  a  blinding  flash,  a  terrific  roar, 
and  I  felt  as  if  a  mule  had  tried  to  kick 
me  through  the  stone  wall,  so  violent  was 
the  rebound  of  the  gun.  Immediately  after 
I  fired  I  saw  the  huge  black  brute  spring 
into  the  air,  and  then  it  fell  upon  me.  I  felt 
the  sharp  bristles  of  its  neck  prick  my  face. 
I  remember  feeling  the  blood  from  its  wound 
trickling  through  my  clothing,  and  after  that 
I  knew  nothing  until  I  awakened  in  bed  at 
home  several  hours  later. 

My  father  and  Balser  told  me  the  story  of 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  23 

the  happenings  outside  the  cave  during  the 
little  eternity  I  spent  inside  with  the  dogs 
and  the  bears. 

My  father  said  that  when  he  came  up  to  the 
brink  of  the  precipice  over  which  Balser,  I, 
and  the  dogs  had  disappeared,  he  could  see  no 
one,  and  supposed  that  we  had  all  hurried 
forward.  Balser,  of  course,  was  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  and  I  had  ridden  the  bear  into  the 
cave,  where  the  dogs  had  followed  me. 
Father  called  and  presently  Balser  answered 
from  below  ;  then  father  ran  to  him,  crying : 

"  Where  is  Tom  Andy  Bill  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  returned  Balser.  "  Isn't 
he  up  there  with  the  bears  ? " 

"  Bears  ? "  cried  father.  "There  are  no  bears 
here." 

"  Well,  they  are  there  —  two  big  ones. 
Tom  Andy  Bill  and  I  jumped  right  down  on 
them.  I  rolled  down  hill  and  —  Lordy, 
where  on  earth  are  Tom  Andy  Bill  and  the 
dogs  ?     Tom  Andy  B-i-1-1 ! !  "  cried  Balser. 

There  was  no  response,  for  I,  of  course, 
could  not  have  heard  thunder  in  the  terrific 
din  the  bears  and  the  dogs  were  making  in 
the  cave.  Father  and  Balser  called  me  and 
looked  everywhere,  but  it  seemed  as  if  the 


24  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  me.  The 
mouth  of  the  cave  was  almost  hidden  by 
bushes  and  father  did  not  at  once  discover 
it.  After  looking  about  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  he  came  close  to  the  opening  and 
indistinctly  heard  the  barking  of  the  dogs. 

The  noise  coming  from  the  cave  seemed  to 
shoot  out  into  the  woods  as  a  bullet  is  shot 
from  a  gun.  Father  was  deceived  by  the 
peculiar  effect,  and  thought  the  voices  of  the 
dogs  came  from  a  spot  opposite  the  mouth 
of  the  cave.  He  and  Balser,  therefore,  ran 
in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  seemed 
to  come,  and  so  were  led  away  from  me. 
When  they  failed  to  find  me  and  the  dogs, 
they  were  greatly  alarmed  and  could  not  im- 
agine what  had  become  of  us.  Presently 
Balser  said :  — 

"  I  know  they  are  up  there  on  the  top  of 
the  hill,  near  that  little  cliff,  some  place.  I 
certainly  had  not  left  them  thirty  seconds 
when  you  came !  " 

They  hurried  back  to  the  vicinity  of  the 
cave  and  began  to  search  the  place  carefully. 
All  these  mishaps  and  misunderstandings 
consumed  perhaps  four  or  five  minutes,  dur- 
ing which  time  it  is  one  of  the  seven  wonders 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  25 

that  the  bears  had  not  killed  me.  Balser 
soon  found  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  father 
came  to  my  rescue.  His  eyes  being  unused 
to  the  darkness,  he  could  not  see  far  into  the 
cave,  but  he  heard  the  conflict  between  the 
dogs  and  the  bears,  and  he  knew  that  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  it. 

Father  said  he  heard  me  cry  out,  though 
I  was  unconscious  of  an  effort  to  do  anything 
but  to  get  through  the  stone  wall  at  the  back 
of  the  cave.  Father  said  he  saw  the  flash  of 
my  gun  and  did  not  stop  for  bears,  dark- 
ness, or  anything.  He  ran  in  to  save  me,  if 
possible.  He  found  the  large  bear  lying  on 
top  of  me  and  supposed  I  was  dead.  He 
said  he  did  not  see  the  other  bear,  but  Balser 
saw  it  and  felt  it  too.  When  I  fired  and 
killed  the  bear  next  me,  the  other  one  must 
have  concluded  to  get  out  of  the  cave,  for  it 
started  for  fresh  air  just  as  Balser  was  stoop- 
ing to  enter.  There  was  a  collision,  and 
Balser  took  another  trip  down  hill.  He  said 
if  he  had  rolled  down  that  hill  many  more 
times  he  would  have  acquired  the  habit. 

Father  pulled  me  out  from  under  the  bear, 
and  he  and  Balser  carried  me  home  on  a 
litter   made   from   the   limbs  of   a  tree.     A 


26  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

neighbor  went  next  day  and  brought  home 
the  bear,  and  father  gave  me  the  ten  shillings 
he  received  for  its  skin.  The  other  bear  got 
away,  but  Balser  and  I  thought  we  found  it 
afterward,  as  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow  even- 
ing, if  I  don't  go  to  church. 

Silence  ensued  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
little  Mab,  who  had  sat  open-eyed  long  after 
the  Sandman's  visit  was  due,  said :  — 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  won't  go  to  church, 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill." 

Die,  who  sat  near  her  and  was  thankful 
for  the  suggestion,  seconded  her  motion 
with:  — 

"You  bet!" 

Mab  slept  in  a  cosey  little  room  adjoining 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill's,  and  the  door  between 
the  rooms  was  always  kept  open  so  that  she 
need  not  be  afraid. 

"  I  suppose  I'll  be  frightened  to  death  to- 
night, Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  said  Mab, 
"and  if  I  am,  I  am  coming  into  your  bed." 

"  All  right,  honey,"  answered  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill. 

Then  the  two  arose  and  started  to  bed, 
Baby  Mab  leading  him  by  the  favorite  finger. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    WOLVES    AND    THE     POWDER    KEG 

We  all  recognized  the  fact  that  five-year- 
old  Mab  was  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill's  favor- 
ite. He  cared  for  her  as  tenderly  as  a 
mother  cares  for  her  babe.  Her  large  gray 
eyes  looked  one  squarely  in  the  face  and 
never  flinched  from  any  gaze.  It  was  the 
most  perfect  example  of  "  baby  stare  "  I  have 
ever  known.  One  could  not  lie  to  those 
eyes  without  feeling  that  they  were  looking 
right  down  into  one's  bad  heart.  She  was 
not  conscious  that  a  lie  could  be  uttered  by 
herself  or  by  any  one  else.  She  had  not 
reached  her  school  majority,  six,  but  she  at- 
tended my  school. 

Upon  the  day  after  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill's  story,  I  noticed  Mab  whispering  to  her 
neighbor  across  the  aisle. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Mab?"  I 
asked. 

She  quickly  straightened  up,  blushed,  and 
27 


28  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

said,  "  I  just  whispered  to  Die  that  I  hoped 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  would  not  go  to 
church  to-night." 

"  Was  that  all  you  said  ?  You  have  been 
talking  a  long  time,"  I  suggested. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Mab  an- 
swered, "  I  said  maybe  he  would  go  to  church 
and  come  home  late,  and  tell  another  story 
to  the  older  ones,  and  I  said  if  he  did,  I  just 
could  not  stay  awake  that  long." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  "  I  again  asked,  for  I  loved 
to  hear  her  explanations.  They  were  mar- 
vellous specimens  of  unique  and  unvar- 
nished truth. 

"  No,  that  wasn't  all,"  said  Mab ;  "  I  said  I 
expect  it's  wrong  for  me  to  wish  that  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill  wouldn't  go  to  church,  for 
he  might  be  damned,  and  that  would  hurt 
him." 

A  ripple  of  laughter  ran  over  the  room. 

"What  does  'damned'  mean,  Mab?"  I 
asked. 

Mab  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  answered 
somewhat  haltingly :  — 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  the  preacher 
said  if  you  didn't  go  to  church,  you  would  be 
damned ;  and  when  old  Bill  Grumpers  told 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  29 

Pat  Hillis  to  '  be  damned,'  he  hit  him  with 
his  fist  and  knocked  Pat  down,  and  I  don't 
want  any  one  to  knock  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill  down." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  said  I,  fighting  my 
desire  to  laugh.  Then  I  asked,  "  Have  you 
said  all  you  want  to  say  to  Die?  " 

"Yes,  for  a  little  while,"  answered  Mab. 
Another  wave  of  laughter  ran  through  the 
room,  and  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall. 

Whispering  in  school  is  a  terrible  crime ; 
but  when  Mab  had  anything  to  say,  I  did  not 
try  to  cork  it  in,  for  it  would  get  out  in  some 
way.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  I  saw  the 
familiar  expression  of  eager  inquisitiveness 
come  upon  her  face,  and  I  knew  that  some- 
thing interesting  would  soon  happen.  I 
tried  to  keep  her  from  catching  my  eye,  but 
it  was  impossible  to  dodge  the  beseeching 
little  face.  Presently  she  held  up  her 
chubby  hand,  and  I  asked :  — 

"  What  is  it,  Mab  ? " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  in  the  aisle  and 
anxiously  inquired :  — 

"  Do  you  think  any  one  would  damn  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill  clear  down  to  the  ground 
if  he  doesn't  go  to  church  to-night  ?  " 


3o  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

I  had  urgent  business  at  the  blackboard, 
and  the  school  enjoyed  another  wave  of  laugh- 
ter. 

I  knew  that  Mab's  tender  little  heart  was 
brooding  over  possible  future  trouble  for  her 
friend  of  friends,  so  I  turned  to  her  and  said : 

"  No  one  will  hurt  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
Mab,  even  if  he  doesn't  go  to  church,  so  you 
need  not  worry  about  it." 

A  happy,  contented  expression  at  once 
came  to  the  baby  girl's  face,  and  the  ques- 
tion of  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill's  "  damnation  " 
was  settled,  at  least  for  the  time  being. 

That  evening  at  the  supper  table,  Mab, 
who  sat  next  to  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,  whis- 
pered :  — 

"  Are  you  going  to  church  to-night  ?  " 

"  No.     Why,  Mab  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Tom. 

"  Because  maybe  you'll  tell  us  another 
story,"  answered  Mab. 

"  Did  you  like  the  one  last  night  ?  "  asked 
the  story-teller. 

"  Yes,"  eagerly  responded  Mab. 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  it  frightened  me  and  made  me 
feel  so  nice  and  shivery,  and  made  my  feet 
cold." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  31 

Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  laughed  softly,  and 
said :  — 

"  Those  surely  are  delightful  sensations. 
We'll  see  about  it  after  supper." 

"  Let's  hurry  and  eat,"  said  Die,  and  every 
one,  including  myself,  did  hurry.   . 

After  supper  the  boys  eagerly  built  a  huge 
fire  in  the  fireplace.  Mab  got  Uncle  Tom's 
pipe,  drew  her  chair  close  to  his  side,  and  a 
most  flattering  hush  fell  upon  the  expectant 
audience. 

Tom  Andy  Bill  silently  smoked  his  pipe, 
and  the  audience  soon  got  restless.  After 
waiting  a  few  minutes,  Mab  came  across  the 
hearth  to  me,  and  said  in  a  whisper  that 
could  be  heard  all  over  the  room :  — 

"  Tell  him  to  please  begin." 

Mab,  as  usual,  "  got  a  laugh,"  as  the  actors 
say.     Uncle  Tom  laughed  too,  and  said :  — 

"  I  can't  tell  a  story  as  it  ought  to  be  told. 
I'm  too  ignorant  and  haven't  the  gift  of  —  " 

A  chorus  of  protests  silenced  the  modest 
one,  and  in  a  moment  he  continued :  — 

"  I  don't  know  just  what  to  tell  you,"  said 
he.  "  There  are  lots  of  things  I  might  tell 
you  about.  I  am  eager  to  tell  you  about  the 
Indian  treasure,  but  so  many  things  happened 


32  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

to  Balser  and  me  both  before  and  after  we 
learned  about  it  that  I  am  afraid  I  will  have 
to  tell  you  several  stories  to  let  you  know  the 
full  history.  After  we  learned  about  the 
treasure,  it,  of  course,  was  the  one  great 
thought  on  our  minds,  but  in  our  effort  to 
discover  it,  a  great  many  adventures  befell  us ; 
and  I  believe  I  will  tell  you  the  little  history 
of  our  boyhood  life  at  that  time,  and  bring 
in  the  events  in  the  order  in  which  they 
happened." 

THE   STORY 

This  evening  I'll  tell  you  a  story  about  the 
night  Balser  and  I  spent  in  a  tree.  I  rec- 
ollect it  vividly.  It  was  midwinter  and  it 
was  cold.  Snow  had  come  early  that  year, 
and  after  it  had  covered  the  ground  and  fes- 
tooned the  trees,  the  cold  weather  began  in 
earnest  and  remained  in  earnest  until  spring. 
The  Indians  have  a  proverb:  "Cold  weather 
makes  good  fur,"  and  they  are  right.  Provi- 
dence never  sends  an  evil  without  at  the  same 
time  sending  a  compensating  good.  If  He 
sends  a  cold  winter,  He  also  gives  the  ani- 
mals a  thick,  beautiful  coat  of  fur  to  keep 
them  warm.     After  a  week  or  two  of  very 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  33 

cold  weather,  the  fur  grows  thick  and 
glossy ;  therefore  pelts  taken  in  a  cold 
season  are  far  more  valuable  and  beautiful 
than  those  taken  during  a  warm,  open  winter. 
When  the  cold  snap  began,  Balser  and 
I  got  our  traps  ready,  polished  our  guns, 
sharpened  our  knives,  moulded  bullets,  and 
invested  every  dollar  we  could  raise  in 
powder.  We  also  cut  a  great  number  of 
hazel  forks.  These  were  forked  branches  of 
the  hazel  bush,  and  were  used  in  stretching 
pelts.  When  a  small,  fur-bearing  animal,  as 
the  beaver,  mink,  or  weasel,  was  caught,  it  was 
killed  by  a  blow  on  the  head  to  avoid  injur- 
ing the  pelt.  Then  a  slit  was  made  in  the 
skin  of  the  hind  legs  of  the  animal,  and  the 
pelt  was  drawn  over  the  head  as  Mab  pulls  her 
stocking  over  her  foot  and  finds  it  wrong  side 
out  when  she  gets  it  off.  When  the  pelt  was 
removed  from  the  body,  the  fur  was  inside 
and  the  skin  was  shaped  like  a  sack.  Into 
this  sack  we  thrust  the  hazel  forks,  allowing 
the  prongs  to  spring  apart  and  stretch  the 
pelt.  It  was  then  hung  up  to  cure.  It 
would,  of  course,  cure  better  in  cold  weather ; 
in  warm  weather  we  had  to  treat  it  with 
arsenic. 


34  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

I  was  only  fifteen  years  old  at  the  time  oi 
which  I  speak,  but  I  bought  the  forty  acres 
of  ground  on  which  this  house  stands  with 
my  share  of  the  money  realized  from  the  sale 
of  the  pelts  taken  by  Balser  and  me  that 
winter.     Of  course  the  land  was  cheap. 

One  day,  Balser  and  I  being  all  ready, 
we  started  out  with  the  dogs,  Tige  and 
Prince.  We  took  a  sleigh  loaded  with  traps, 
guns,  tanned  bearskins,  potatoes,  beans,  corn- 
meal,  lard,  butter,  and  all  the  provisions  we 
would  need  except  meat.  We  could  easily 
kill  quails,  rabbits,  and  deer  enough  to  keep 
us  in  meat  for  six  months  if  the  weather 
remained  cold. 

A  donkey  belonging  to  Balser  drew  the 
sled.  We  called  the  donkey  "  Solomon " 
because  he  looked  so  wise;  and  he  in  no 
way  belied  his  appearance  or  his  name.  He 
had  an  enormous  head,  and  was  more  of  a 
philosopher  than  the  average  school-teacher. 
He  was  as  peaceful  as  a  Quaker,  but,  like 
the  Quakers,  he  could  fight  like  forty  wild- 
cats if  occasion  arose,  as  you  will  agree 
when  I  tell  you  the  story  of  his  fight  with  a 
pack  of  wolves. 

Balser,  I,  and  the  dogs  started  out  before 


I 


A. 


r v? 


(/ 


"  Wk  called  the  donkey  '  Solomon  '  " 


UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL  35 

sun-up  one  morning,  and  by  noon  we 
reached  a  small  cabin  that  we  had  built  on 
the  banks  of  Brandywine,  eight  or  ten  miles 
distant  from  home.  The  cabin  consisted  of 
one  small  room  and  a  mud-plastered  stick 
chimney.  The  ground  was  our  floor  and 
the  clapboard  roof  was  our  ceiling ;  there- 
fore, although  the  logs  were  chinked  tightly 
with  mud  and  grass,  the  cabin  was  hardly  as 
warm  as  an  oven  when  the  weather  was  at 
its  coldest,  though  it  was  cosey  enough  if  the 
wind  did  not  blow. 

During  the  summer  and  fall  Balser  and  I 
had  prepared  for  this  expedition  by  cutting  a 
huge  pile  of  firewood  and  stacking  it  near 
the  cabin  door.  We  also  harvested  a  great 
quantity  of  marsh  grass  that  served  to 
make  our  beds,  and  to  feed  Solomon.  The 
donkey,  however,  was  not  confined  to  a  diet 
of  marsh  grass,  for  we  took  with  us  corn 
and  oats  for  the  wise  one.  Balser  said  that 
oats  was  good  brain  food,  and  that  Solomon's 
great  brain  would  need  sustenance. 

Thus  provided  for,  Solomon  on  Brandy- 
wine  was  as  happy  a  donkey  as  ever  lived, 
for  he,  following  the  example  of  his  master, 
seemed  to  love  the  wild  life  we  were  living 


36  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

in  the  trackless  forest.  There  was  hay  for 
his  manger  and  hay  for  his  bed,  and  there 
were  corn  and  oats  in  plenty ;  so  after  he  was 
installed  in  his  little  log  stable,  all  he  had  to 
do  was  to  eat,  sleep,  and  sing,  and  he  did  all 
three  with  the  entire  energy  of  his  forceful 
nature.  At  times,  growing  lonesome  deep 
in  the  night,  he  would  sing  to  us  from  his 
stable,  nor  would  he  cease  until  Balser 
answered  him  in  his  own  language ;  then  he 
would  go  to  sleep  and  sing  no  more  till  he 
was  hungry  next  morning.  We  needed  no 
alarm  to  waken  us ;  Solomon  was  a  veritable 
town  clock,  and  no  one  could  have  slept 
while  he  poured  forth  his  soul  in  song. 

Solomon's  stable  was  built  a  hundred 
yards  south  of  our  hut,  very  close  to  the 
banks  of  the  creek.  Our  purpose  in  building 
it  so  far  away  was  to  use  it,  not  only  as 
a  stable,  but  as  a  magazine  for  our  powder, 
which  we  wished  to  store  as  far  away  as 
possible  from  our  fire.  We  wrapped  the 
powder  keg  in  bearskins,  and  placed  it  just 
inside  the  door  of  Solomon's  stable. 

I  remember  well  our  first  winter  day  at  the 
cabin.  Oh,  but  it  was  cold !  Our  hands 
and   feet   were  like  pieces  of  ice  when  we 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  37 

reached  our  destination.  Solomon  had  been 
working  very  hard,  and  he  was  warm ;  but 
Balser  declared  when  we  stopped  at  the 
cabin  that  the  donkey  was  trying  to  tell  us 
that  the  tips  of  his  long  ears  were  frozen,  so 
we  held  a  handful  of  snow  to  them  for  a 
moment  to  draw  out  the  frost,  and  Solomon 
seemed  grateful.  He  was  of  so  grateful  a 
nature  that  I  believe  he  would  have  thanked 
us  for  a  kick  if  he  felt  that  it  was  admin- 
istered for  his  good. 

After  arriving  at  the  cabin,  our  first  task 
was  to  unhitch  Solomon  and  put  him  in  the 
stable,  which  was  as  warm  and  cosey  a 
shelter  as  any  donkey  could  ask;  then  we 
gave  him  a  good  feed  of  corn  and  filled  his 
manger  with  sweet  hay.  Solomon,  when 
fairly  installed,  sang  a  little  song  of  thanks- 
giving and  fell  upon  the  corn  and  hay  with  a 
zest  that  would  have  done  your  heart  good 
to  see. 

Then  we  carried  a  great  armful  of  wood 
into  the  cabin,  spread  our  bed  with  sweet- 
smelling  hay,  and  lighted  a  roaring  fire 
in  the  fireplace.  We  warmed  our  hands 
and  feet,  ate  dinner,  and  brought  the  sled- 
load  of  traps,  provisions,  etc.,  into  the  cabin, 


38  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

where  we  stored  them  on  shelves  about  the 
walls.  At  four  o'clock,  everything  being  in 
its  place,  we  took  our  guns  and  went  out  to 
kill  a  rabbit  for  supper.  This  was  quickly 
done.  We  skinned  the  rabbit,  placed  it  on 
the  ice  in  the  creek,  and  covered  it  with 
snow  to  cool  the  meat;  then  we  went  into 
the  cabin,  built  up  the  fire  afresh,  and  pre- 
pared supper. 

When  the  potatoes  and  corn-bread  were 
nearly  baked,  we  brought  in  the  rabbit,  cut 
it  in  pieces,  and  placed  it  on  the  coals  to 
broil.  When  the  meat  was  well  done,  we 
sat  down  on  our  chairs  at  the  table  and  ate 
our  supper.  My  life,  how  we  did  eat !  You 
notice  I  said  we  sat  down  on  our  chairs 
at  the  table.  The  chairs  were  two  small 
stumps,  and  the  table  was  a  large  one 
standing  between  the  chairs.  These  three 
stumps  we  had  left  within  the  cabin.  We 
had  smoothed  the  tops  with  a  saw  and  had 
chopped  away  all  obtruding  roots  and  bark. 

When  supper  was  finished,  we  sat  gazing 
into  the  fire,  talking  a  little  and  dreaming  a 
great  deal,  until  we  were  startled  by  a  most 
tremendous  noise  coming  from  a  short  way 
down   the  creek.     We   sprang  to   our  feet 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  39 

somewhat  frightened,  but  soon  we  laughed 
and  exclaimed :  — 

"  Solomon  is  singing  for  corn ! " 

I  went  to  the  stable,  led  Solomon  to  the 
creek,  where  we  had  cut  a  hole  in  the  ice, 
gave  him  a  drink,  took  him  back,  fed  him 
his  corn  and  fresh  hay,  made  a  soft,  warm 
bed  for  him  to  lie  on,  and  closed  his  stable 
door  for  the  night. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  cabin,  Balser  had 
cleared  up  the  supper  table  by  the  simple 
process  of  throwing  the  scraps  and  the  rab- 
bit bones  to  the  dogs. 

Being  very  tired,  we  were  almost  ready 
for  bed.  We  each  had  a  bearskin  sleeping- 
bag,  so,  after  we  had  banked  the  fire,  we 
crept  into  our  bags  and  slept  until  we  heard 
the  voice  of  Solomon  calling  for  corn.  Next 
day  we  placed  our  traps  and  began  hunting. 

I  don't  recollect  that  any  adventure  worth 
telling  befell  us  during  the  first  two  weeks  of 
our  residence  on  Brandywine.  The  beaver 
dams  were  all  frozen  in,  and  although  there 
were  two  large  ones  within  a  mile  of  us,  we 
had  caught  only  three  of  the  little  animals 
during  the  first  fortnight.  We  had,  how- 
ever, killed  a  large  number  of  minks,  weasels, 


40  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

and  muskrats,  and  had  taken  no  less  than 
six  red  foxes  with  the  most  beautiful  coats 
and  brushes  I  have  ever  seen. 

We  had  also  killed  a  fat  young  bear,  that 
furnished  meat  for  ourselves  and  the  dogs, 
and  had  shot  two  gray  wolves.  For  the  tails 
of  these  wolves  we  would  receive  a  bounty  of 
fifty  cents  each  from  the  county,  and  the 
wolf  pelts,  taken  during  the  cold  winter, 
were  so  perfect  that  we  hoped  to  receive  not 
less  than  a  dollar  apiece  for  them. 

Aside  from  bear  and  beaver,  the  wolf  was 
the  most  valuable  game  we  could  take,  but  it 
was  also  the  hardest  to  find,  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  kill  when  found,  and  the  most  dan- 
gerous to  pursue  if  found  in  packs.  We 
could  set  no  trap  that  would  take  them. 
We  tried  every  way  to  conceal  the  traps,  but 
the  wolves  always  scented  the  danger  and 
avoided  it.  To  secure  a  wolfskin,  one  must 
shoot  the  wolf. 

For  two  weeks  the  story  of  our  life  was 
the  same  from  day  to  day.  We  breakfasted 
soon  after  sun-up,  visited  our  traps  and 
hunted  until  noon,  stretched  the  pelts  in 
the  afternoon,  stored  them  in  Solomon's 
stable,  ate  our  supper,  sat  before  the  great 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  41 

blazing  fire,  talking  and  dreaming,  crept  into 
our  sleeping-bags,  and  slept  until  morning. 
At  the  expiration  of  two  weeks  something 
did  happen. 

One  night  Balser  and  I  were  sitting  be- 
fore the  fire.     We  had  killed  a  wolf  that  day. 

"  I  wish  we  had  a  hundred  wolf  skins  and 
tails,"  said  he. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  a  thousand,"  said  I. 

"  Tom  Andy  Bill,  you  always  were  a  pig," 
returned  Balser. 

"  If  I'm  going  to  be  a  pig  at  all,  I'll  be  a 
big  one,"  said  I.  "  You're  a  pig  for  wanting 
a  hundred  wolf  pelts.  The  only  difference 
between  us  is  in  size." 

We  laughed  and  continued  to  talk  about 
wolves  until  we  were  sleepy.  Then  we  crept 
into  our  bearskin  bags  and  dreamed  about 
wolves. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Balser  wakened 
me,  saying :  — 

"  Listen  to  Solomon,  Tom  Andy  Bill. 
Something  is  wrong." 

I  listened  and  heard  Solomon's  plaintive 
voice  borne  in  upon  the  cold  night  air. 

"  He  wants  his  corn,"  said  I.  "  Confound 
him,  I  wish  he  wouldn't  get  hungry  so  early." 


42  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  It's  not  early,"  said  Balser.  "  It  is  surely 
not  past  midnight.  Solomon  is  not  singing 
for  corn.  He  is  in  trouble.  Listen,  Tom 
Andy  Bill,  listen !     Wolves  !     Wolves !  " 

The  dogs,  sleeping  in  front  of  the  fire,  be- 
gan to  bark.  I  silenced  them,  and  Balser 
and  I  listened.  Soon  the  howling  of  the 
wolves  began  again,  far  away  at  first,  but 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  every  moment. 
Balser  got  out  of  his  sleeping-bag,  stirred  the 
fire  to  make  a  light,  and  reached  for  his  gun, 
powder-horn,  and  bullet  bag.  I  quickly  fol- 
lowed his  example. 

The  odor  from  the  pelts  in  Solomon's 
stable  had  attracted  the  wolves,  and  we  must 
go  to  the  rescue  of  our  friend  and  our  treas- 
ure. When  we  had  taken  down  our  guns, 
we  again  paused  to  listen,  and  soon  caught 
the  wolfish  refrain.  It  seemed  to  be  almost 
upon  us,  and  judging  from  the  frightful  noise 
they  made,  we  thought  surely  the  woods 
was  full  of  them.  In  the  lulls  between 
their  spells  of  howling,  we  distinctly  heard 
Solomon  calling  wildly  for  help.  There 
was  a  note  in  his  cry  that  was  plainly 
different  from  his  corn  song.  We  hesitated 
to  leave  the  cabin,  for  of  all  the  dangers  a 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  43 

hunter  has  to  encounter,  a  pack  of  hungry 
wolves  on  a  cold  night  is  the  greatest ;  but 
we  could  not  leave  Solomon  and  his  treasure 
to  the  mercy  of  the  wolves.  They  would 
soon  tear  down  the  poorly  constructed  door 
of  his  stable  and  then  —  good-by  to  Solo- 
mon and  all  his  glory!  Hard  pressed  by 
fear,  we  reluctantly  marched  to  the  rescue. 
In  the  battle  we  were  to  fight,  the  dogs 
would  be  of  no  help  to  us ;  the  wolves 
would  devour  them  before  they  could  have  a 
chance  even  to  bark.  So  we  left  them  in 
the  cabin  and  shut  the  door  upon  them. 

When  we  got  outside,  we  found  the  night 
very  cold  and  clear.  The  moon  was  full  and 
the  light  upon  the  snow  almost  turned  night 
into  day.  At  the  door  of  Solomon's  stable 
we  saw  two  wolves,  and  Balser  said  :  — 

"  By  George,  I  believe  there  are  only  two 
of  them.  Who  would  have  thought  that 
two  wolves  could  make  all  that  noise  ?  " 

"  They  didn't  make  it,"  said  I.  "  There's 
a  big  pack  close  by,  you  may  depend  on  it, 
and  we  had  better  stay  near  home.  We'll 
take  a  shot  at  our  friends  over  there  by  the 
stable  door,  but  let's  keep  the  way  of  retreat 
clear  to  our  own  door." 


44  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

I  was  about  to  shoot  when  Balser  said:  — « 
"  Don't  shoot  from  here,  Tom  Andy  Bill. 
If  you  miss  the  wolves,  the  bullet  might  go 
through  the  door  or  between  the  logs  of  the 
stable,  and  then  poor  old  Solomon  might 
come  to  grief.  Let  us  go  around  to  the 
other  side,  where  we  can  shoot  at  the  wolves 
without  endangering  Solomon's  life." 

We  went  toward  the  other  side  of  the 
stable  and  soon  found  ourselves  in  the  deep, 
black  forest.  The  stable  was  now  between 
us  and  the  cabin,  and  I  suggested  to  Balser 
the  danger  of  the  pack  cutting  off  our  retreat. 
By  the  time  we  were  ready  to  shoot  at  the 
wolves  we  had  seen  near  the  stable  door, 
they  had  disappeared,  and  we  heard  a  fright- 
ful din  like  the  howling  of  a  host  of  demons 
let  loose  upon  the  world.  The  thing  we  had 
feared  had  come  to  pass.  The  howling  came 
nearer  and  nearer.  We  knew  then  that  a 
large  pack  of  wolves,  led,  probably,  by  one  of 
the  two  that  had  been  at  the  stable  door, 
was  approaching.  We  started  to  run  for 
the  cabin,  but  we  were  too  late ;  the  wolves 
had  cut  off  our  retreat.  When  they  saw  us, 
they  at  once  charged  in  our  direction.  We 
fired  into  the  pack,  but  while  we  must  have 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  45 

killed  at  least  two  of  their  number,  we  did 
not  check  their  onrush. 

"  Run  for  your  life  and  climb  a  tree,"  cried 
Balser. 

But  I  was  running  before  he  had  uttered 
the  first  word  of  warning,  and  he  was  com- 
ing after  me  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  We 
were  so  frightened  that  we  made  wonder- 
ful speed  and  soon  reached  a  tree  that  we 
could  climb,  standing  twenty  yards  from 
Solomon's  stable.  We  could  not  climb 
rapidly,  being  encumbered  with  our  guns,  so 
we  threw  them  to  the  ground  and  started 
up  the  tree  without  them.  I  went  first.  I 
hurried  to  get  out  of  Balser's  way  and  was 
none  too  quick,  for  the  wolves  were  swarm- 
ing about  the  tree  just  as  Balser  drew  his 
feet  up  out  of  their  reach.  I  tell  you,  those 
were  busy  times !  It  did  not  take  us  long 
to  straddle  a  limb,  and  to  thank  heaven  that 
we  were  not  on  the  ground.  Had  we  been 
at  the  root  of  the  tree,  the  wolves  would 
have  torn  us  to  pieces  in  less  time  than  Mab 
could  say  "  Christmas." 

The  limb  on  which  Balser  and  I  found 
refuge  was  not  more  than  ten  feet  from  the 
ground,   and    the    hungry  wolves,   in  their 


46  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

desperation,  sprang  almost  up  to  us.  Of 
course,  they  could  not  jump  ten  feet  into  the 
air,  but  they  forced  us  to  draw  up  our  feet 
so  quickly  and  so  often  that  Balser  said  he 
felt  as  though  he  were  dancing  a  jig. 

The  noise  the  wolves  made  was  terrifying 
beyond  anything  you  can  imagine.  We 
were  safe  for  the  time,  but  we  were  terribly 
frightened,  and  although  we  were  accus- 
tomed to  danger,  the  strain  upon  our  nerves 
was  all  that  we  could  bear. 

I  do  not  know  what  hour  it  was  when  we 
climbed  the  tree,  but  I  do  know  that  it 
seemed  ages  while  we  waited  through  the 
long  cold  night,  listening  to  the  awful  wolf 
concert.  After  a  long,  shivering  silence, 
Balser  said:  — 

"  Their  noise  is  not  pleasant,  but  I  hope 
the  wolves  will  remain  here  howling  at  us.  I 
hope  they  will  not  think  of  attacking  Solo- 
mon. If  he  keeps  still,  perhaps  they  will 
forget  him,  and  when  they  find  they  cannot 
reach  us,  they  may  go  away." 

"  Don't  build  any  hopes  on  their  going 
away,"  I  answered ;  "  hungry  wolves  never 
let  up." 

We  sat  in  the  tree  hour  after  hour,  and 


"  they  forced  us  to  draw  up  "ik  fkkt  so  often  that 
Bai.ser  said  he  ff.i.t  as  if  he  was  hanging  a  jig" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  47 

the  wolves  did  not  desert  us.  My  life,  but  it 
was  cold !  I  thought  my  very  blood  would 
freeze.  We  watched  the  east,  hoping  for 
the  break  of  dawn,  but  the  sun  seemed  to  be 
stuck  down  below  the  horizon  somewhere, 
and  I  almost  lost  hope  for  the  dawning  of 
another  day.  Balser  and  I  sat  very  close  to 
each  other  to  save  what  warmth  we  could. 
When  he  grew  drowsy,  I  did  all  in  my  power 
to  arouse  him,  and  he  performed  the  same 
service  for  me.  Great  cold  produces  drowsi- 
ness, and  if  sleep  should  overtake  one  under 
conditions  such  as  ours  were,  all  hope  is  lost ; 
one  is  apt  to  freeze  to  death.  But  in  our 
case  there  was  a  danger  to  be  feared  from 
sleep  greater  than  that  of  freezing.  If  we  be- 
came unconscious,  we  might  fall  to  the  ground, 
and  then  the  good  Lord  only  could  help  us. 
The  pack  of  wolves  howling  under  us  was 
the  largest  I  ever  saw.  They  numbered  at 
least  fifteen.  All  of  them  seemed  of  tre- 
mendous size,  but  the  captain  or  leader  was 
the  largest  wolf  I  have  ever  seen.  These 
sagacious  animals  choose  a  leader  with  more 
deliberation  and,  in  many  instances,  with 
more  intelligence  than  we  use  in  selecting 
our  officers. 


48  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

At  intervals  the  wolves  would  become 
quiet  for  a  time,  and  peace  would  reign  for  a 
minute  or  two,  but  the  big,  hungry  captain 
would  soon  jump  for  us  again,  uttering  a  ter- 
rific howl.  He  might  have  been  called  the 
"  howl  master,"  for,  like  a  singing  teacher, 
he  gave  the  key-note  and  the  wolf  choir  took 
up  the  refrain. 

I  cannot  at  all  describe  to  you  the  tedious, 
frightful  hours  of  fear  and  pain  we  passed  in 
the  tree,  but,  after  what  seemed  a  lifetime  of 
agony,  we  saw  a  few  faint  gray  streaks  com- 
ing in  the  east,  followed  by  a  blush  of  pink, 
and  soon  the  sun  was  up.  We  had  hoped 
that  the  wolves  would  leave  at  sunrise,  but 
they  clung  to  us  with  a  persistency  that  we 
could  have  admired  in  a  better  cause. 

"  I  believe  they  have  forgotten  Solomon," 
said  I. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Balser ;  "  I  wish  they 
would  forget  us,  but  they  never  will.  There's 
not  a  house  within  five  miles,  and  no  one 
will  come  near  us  till  spring.  I  tell  you, 
Tom  Andy  Bill,  if  the  wolves  hold  out  much 
longer,  they  will  get  one  good  square  meal, 
and  its  name  will  be  Balser.  I  can't  endure 
this  much  longer.  I'm  almost  dead,  and  I 
know  my  toes  are  frozen." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  49 

I,  too,  was  hardly  alive,  but  I  spoke  cheer- 
ingly  when  my  chattering  teeth  would  allow 
me  to  speak  at  all,  and  said :  — 

"You're  not  half  dead  yet,  Balser,  and 
you'll  see  the  wolves  will  go  away  before 
noon." 

44  No,  they  won't,"  declared  Balser.  44  They 
howled  around  father's  palisade  for  two  whole 
days,  trying  to  get  at  our  sheep.  One  wolf, 
if  alone,  will  howl  and  run  away,  but  a  dozen 
will  howl  to  keep  each  other's  courage  up 
and  will  hang  on  like  grim  death." 

Soon  after  sun-up  Solomon  began  to  sing 
for  corn.  Poor  beast !  He  did  not  know  the 
true  state  of  affairs  or  he  would  have  sung 
for  danger.  The  donkey's  voice  caught  the 
attention  of  the  wolf  leader.  He  stood  for 
a  moment  with  his  ears  cocked  forward ; 
then  he  started  for  the  stable,  and  the  pack 
followed,  howling  like  mad. 

The  real  sum  total  of  a  man's  life  seems 
to  be  made  up  of  a  multitude  of  little  things, 
as  the  vast  ocean  beach  is  made  up  of  tiny 
grains  of  sand.  Even  the  few  great  things 
that  happen  in  his  life  seem  to  hang  upon  an 
insignificant  act  done  or  left  undone.  Upon 
one  of  these  little  acts  hung  our  fate,  and 


50  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

Solomon's,  at  the  dawning  of  that  bright 
winter  morning. 

The  little  peg  upon  which  our  fate  hung 
was  the  fact  that  Balser  and  I  had  swung  the 
door  of  Solomon's  stable  to  open  in  instead 
of  out.  The  door  consisted  of  small  poles 
spliced  together  and  swung  by  thongs  of 
wild  grape-vines  to  a  small  upright  post  that 
constituted  one  side  of  the  door  frame.  The 
construction  was  rough  and  not  very  strong. 

Had  the  door  opened  outward,  the  wolves 
could  not  have  battered  it  down  by  jumping 
against  it,  and  while  Solomon  would  perhaps 
have  been  safer,  we  should  have  been  lost; 
for  Balser  was  right,  the  wolves  would  not 
have  left  us.  We  could  not  have  held  out 
much  longer  in  the  tree,  and  there's  no  "give 
up"  to  a  pack  of  hungry  wolves.  They 
would  have  remained  with  us,  I  do  believe, 
till  doomsday,  had  we  held  out  so  long,  if 
they  had  been  unable  to  break  in  the  flimsy 
door  of  Solomon's  stable.  When  we  built 
the  stable  we  had  intended  to  hang  the  door 
swinging  outward,  but  in  our  haste  to  finish 
our  work,  we  hung  it  swinging  in  the  stable, 
and  after  it  was  hung  we  did  not  care  to  take 
it  down. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  51 

When  the  wolves  left  us,  they  made  a  dash 
for  Solomon,  and  soon  his  corn  song  changed 
to  a  cry  for  help.  The  wolves  circled  about 
the  stable,  searching  for  the  weakest  place 
and  howling  like  demons.  Don't  tell  me 
a  wolf  can't  reason.  The  leader  examined 
every  log  and  opening  in  the  structure  and 
discovered  the  door  almost  as  quickly  as  a 
man  would  have  found  it.  We  could  see 
the  captain  and  his  pack  clearly,  for  by  this 
time  the  sun  was  high  above  the  horizon. 
Our  hearts  ached  for  poor  Solomon,  for  we 
loved  him  and  we  felt  that  his  fate  was 
sealed. 

The  wolves  seemed  to  hold  a  consultation 
for  a  moment  at  the  door ;  then  the  leader 
said  something  to  the  pack,  and  they  all  ran 
back  from  the  stable  a  distance  of  perhaps 
sixty  feet.  Then,  like  a  rock  from  a  cata- 
pult, they  threw  themselves  upon  the  stable 
door.  The  grape-vine  hinges  were  tough, 
and  the  first  onslaught  failed  to  break  them. 
Disappointed  in  their  attack,  the  wolves 
seemed  to  hold  a  second  council  of  war. 

"  Rub  my  hands,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  said 
Balser,  hurriedly ;  "  rub  them  and  pound 
them  !     Do  anything  to  bring  back  the  blood 


52  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

so  that  I  can  grip  the  tree  and  slide  down 
to  get  the  guns." 

I  belabored  poor  Balserrs  half -frozen  hands 
and  soon  restored  the  life  to  them.  Then 
he  quickly  slipped  down  the  tree,  handed 
the  guns  up  to  me,  and  made  ready  to  climb 
back  to  our  perch  upon  the  limb.  While 
he  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  tree, 
rubbing  his  hands,  the  wolves  started  in  our 
direction. 

"  The  wolves,  the  wolves !  "  I  cried ;  "  they 
are  coming!  Hurry  or  they  will  be  on 
you ! " 

Balser  grasped  the  tree,  but  his  hands 
were  so  cold  and  he  was  so  nearly  frozen 
that  he  made  poor  headway.  He  thought 
he  was  lost,  for  he  knew  the  wolves  had  seen 
him,  and  were  coming  toward  him  like  a 
howling  gray  wave  of  an  angry  sea.  I,  too, 
expected  Balser  to  be  torn  to  pieces  before 
my  eyes,  but  for  some  reason  the  wolves 
paused  a  second  or  two,  and  I,  catching  Bal- 
ser by  the  hand,  pulled  him  up  to  safety. 

The  powder-horns  and  bullet  bags  were 
hanging  by  their  strings  about  our  necks, 
so  when  Balser  was  once  more  seated  beside 
me,  we  rubbed  each  other's  stiff  hands,  until 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  53 

we  manipulated  them  into  a  condition  suffi- 
ciently supple  to  load  our  guns. 

The  wolves  howled  at  our  tree  for  only  a 
moment.  Having  failed  to  catch  Balser,  they 
returned  to  their  attack  upon  Solomon's  door, 
and  repeated  their  former  tactics.  They  re- 
treated fifty  or  sixty  feet  and  then  made  a 
mighty  onrush  with  a  howl  in  concert  that 
must  have  frozen  poor  Solomon's  blood. 

When  the  wolf  wave  dashed  against  the 
door  the  second  time,  it  partially  gave  way, 
but  did  not  fall  in.  In  their  effort  to  com- 
plete their  work,  the  wolves  gathered  about 
the  door  in  a  dense  mass.  By  that  time 
Balser  and  I  had  loaded  our  guns,  and  when 
the  wolves  were  huddled  together,  we  fired 
into  them.  We  must  have  killed  at  least 
two,  but  our  shots  had  no  apparent  effect 
upon  the  attacking  force.  We  loaded  and 
fired  again,  but  we  did  not  in  the  least  dis- 
turb the  enemy.  Again  the  pack  retreated, 
and  again  they  rushed  upon  the  frail  door. 
This  time  it  fell  in,  and  we  felt  that  it  was 
all  over  with  Solomon. 

But,  intimate  as  we  had  been  with  Solo- 
mon, we  did  not  fully  know  him,  nor  had  we 
any  adequate  idea  of  the  tremendous  reserve 


54  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

power  in  his  heels.  The  door,  fortunately, 
was  narrow,  and  only  two  or  three  wolves 
could  pass  through  it  at  the  same  time. 
When  it  fell,  the  wolves  rushed  in,  but  they 
rushed  out  again,  one  by  one,  in  quick  suc- 
cession. They  came  out  as  if  they  had  been 
shot  out  of  a  gun,  and  several  of  them  fell 
many  feet  away  after  describing  a  beautiful 
curve  over  the  backs  of  their  friends  outside 
of  the  stable. 

With  the  rocket-like  exit  of  each  wolf 
Balser  and  I  caught  glimpses  of  Solomon's 
twinkling  hoofs,  elevated  at  an  angle  which 
indicated  that  their  owner  was  trying  to 
stand  on  his  head.  The  hoofs  were  shod 
with  sharp  steel  calks  for  ice  travelling,  and 
they  must  have  inflicted  terrible  punishment 
upon  those  wolves  that  were  unfortunate 
enough  to  become  acquainted  with  them. 

Again  and  again  the.  wolves  attacked  the 
brave  donkey,  but  his  heels  soon  taught 
them  caution  and  they  became  wary.  Per- 
sistently they  kept  up  the  battle,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  Solomon  could  not  hold  out 
much  longer  against  such  odds.  Soon  two 
or  three  wolves  would  effect  an  entrance, 
and   would   pull    poor    old    Solomon   down 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  55 

to  death.  In  the  midst  of  the  unequal  con- 
flict, I  noticed  a  large,  bulky  object  fly  out 
through  the  door  from  Solomon's  heels.  It 
fell  perhaps  thirty  feet  from  the  stable  and 
rolled  a  few  feet  farther,  stopping  thirty-five 
or  forty  feet  from  us. 

"  There  goes  our  powder  keg ! "  cried  Bal- 
ser ;  "  Solomon  has  kicked  it  out." 

The  wolves  left  the  stable  door  and  fell 
upon  the  powder  keg.  At  first  we  could 
not  understand  what  use  they  could  make 
of  the  powder,  but  we  soon  remembered 
that  we  had  wrapped  the  keg  in  bearskins  to 
keep  the  powder  dry,  and  we  knew  that  the 
wolves  were  devouring  the  skins.  The  hun- 
gry beasts  pounced  upon  the  keg  and  formed 
a  pyramid  of  wolves  above  it.  They  fought 
for  the  bearskins,  and  were  piled  on  top  of 
one  another  like  a  mass  of  swarming  bees. 

I  drew  up  my  gun  and  fired  into  the  mass. 
My  shot  produced  no  apparent  effect.  Bal- 
ser  fired  immediately  afterward,  and  his  shot 
produced  a  decided  effect  —  a  most  wonder- 
ful effect.  A  terrific  explosion  that  almost 
knocked  us  from  the  tree  followed  Balser's 
shot,  and  the  pack  of  wolves  was  nearly  ex- 
terminated.    When  the  smoke  drifted  away, 


56  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

we  saw  wolves  dead  and  wounded  lying  about 
us  in  all  directions,  and  not  a  live,  unwounded 
wolf  was  to  be  seen.  Those  that  had  escaped 
death  or  mutilation  had  fled  in  terror. 

We  climbed  down  from  the  tree,  ran  to 
the  house  for  the  axe  and  hatchet,  and  killed 
more  wolves  in  five  minutes  than  I  have 
ever  killed  in  five  years. 

"How  do  you  suppose  it  happened?"  I 
asked  of  Balser. 

"  My  bullet  must  have  struck  the  powder 
keg,"  he  answered.  "  Perhaps  the  powder 
was  ignited  by  friction,  or  a  lighted  piece  of 
gun  wad  may  have  clung  to  the  bullet.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  how  it  happened ;  but 
without  it,  Solomon,  at  least,  would  by  this 
time  have  been  numbered  with  his  fathers." 

After  we  had  killed  the  wounded  wolves 
—  I  think  there  were  eight  of  them  —  we 
stood  in  amazement,  hardly  able  to  believe 
that  we  were  alive,  when  suddenly  we  were 
aroused  by  the  corn  song  of  Solomon.  We 
went  into  the  stable  to  feed  him,  and  found 
that  sagacious  donkey  as  calm  and  quiet  as 
if  nothing  at  all  unusual  had  occurred. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  think  of  kick- 
ing out  the  powder  keg  ? "  Balser  asked  of 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  57 

Solomon,  while  he  was  giving  him  his  corn. 
Solomon  simply  wagged  his  ears  knowingly, 
as  if  to  say :  — 

"  Let  me  alone  for  thinking  of  the  right 
thing  at  the  right  time,  and  doing  it,  too." 


CHAPTER   III 

WYANDOTTE,  THE  INDIAN 

One  cold  evening  we  were  all  sitting 
around  the  fire  waiting  for  our  story.  Sev- 
eral suggestive  hints  had  fallen  from  eager 
members  of  the  audience.  Mab  had  coax- 
ingly  lifted  her  chubby  little  hand  to  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill's  knee  two  or  three  times, 
but  the  curtain  didn't  rise.  The  old  man 
sat  smoking,  and  we  were  all  very  much 
afraid  there  would  be  no  story  that  evening. 
All  eyes  were  turned  toward  Mab  for  help, 
and  soon  she  began  to  feel  that  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  situation  rested  on  her  little 
shoulders,  so  she  climbed  into  Uncle  Tom's 
lap,  put  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear:  — 

"  Please,  please,  Uncle  Tom,  tell  us  an- 
other story." 

Then  she  slid  down  between  his  knees, 
resumed  her  rocking-chair  by  his  side,  caress- 
ingly took  the  favorite  finger  in  her  hand, 
and  Uncle   Tom  Andy  Bill   was  conquered. 

58 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  59 

THE    STORY 

I'm  blest  if  I  know  what  to  give  you  to- 
night, but  I  believe  I'll  tell  you  about  our 
first  meeting  with  Wyandotte,  the  Indian. 
It  was  from  him  we  had  the  hint  of  the  won- 
derful Indian  treasure  that  afterward  led  us 
into  so  much  trouble.  Our  first  meeting 
with  him  occurred  five  or  six  days  before 
Balser  and  I  had  our  terrific  fight  with  three 
bears.  I'll  tell  you  about  the  fight,  too,  but 
as  our  meeting  with  Wyandotte  occurred 
first,  I  will  begin  by  telling  you  about  him. 

After  Solomon's  victory  over  the  wolves 
(it  was  Solomon's  victory,  and  we  had  little 
to  do  with  the  glorious  affair),  we  led  a 
peaceful  life,  and  nothing  occurred  during 
ten  days  that  would  make  even  Mab's  little 
toe  cold,  except  the  weather.  My  life !  but 
it  was  cold,  and  Balser  and  I  hugged  the 
fire  every  night. 

After  Solomon  kicked  out  the  powder 
keg,  we  went  home  and  bought  another  keg 
on  credit,  for  we  had  taken  enough  pelts  to 
pay  for  a  great  deal  of  powder. 

We  built  a  strong  door  to  Solomon's 
stable,  though  we  had   no  fear  of   another 


60  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

attack  from  wolves.  Those  that  escaped 
would  tell  other  wolves  of  the  sad  catastrophe 
that  befell  their  pack,  and  they,  in  turn, 
would  tell  others.  The  news  would  travel 
like  wildfire  throughout  all  wolf-land,  and  no 
temptation  would  induce  a  wolf  that  had 
heard  of  the  explosion  to  visit  the  spot* 
This  statement  may  seem  to  be  overdrawn, 
but  I  have  known  a  great  many  wolves  in 
my  day,  and  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  that 
they  warn  each  other  of  danger.  I  don't  ask 
any  one  else  to  believe  it,  but  /  believe  it. 

No  animal  is  more  anxious  to  take  care 
of  itself  than  a  wolf.  For  caution,  cunning, 
hunger,  and  general  depravity,  I  place  the 
wolf  at  the  head  of  all  four-footed  animals. 
It  has  the  start  of  some  that  walk  on  two 
legs,  except,  perhaps,  in  the  matter  of  de- 
pravity. In  that  respect,  of  course,  we'll 
have  to  give  the  palm  to  man. 

Nevertheless,  we  barricaded  Solomon's 
stable  so  strongly  that  he  could  have  with- 
stood a  siege  from  all  the  wolves  in  Indiana, 
and  the  wise  donkey  fully  appreciated  our 
efforts  for  his  protection. 

We  fortified  our  own  house,  too,  and 
although  the  weather  was  terribly  cold,  we 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  61 

soon  became  used  to  the  freezing  tempera- 
ture, and  I  believe  that  never  in  my  life  was 
I  happier  or  more  contented  than  in  our 
cabin  on  Brandywine.  Every  morning  we 
visited  our  traps  and  hunted  until  late  dinner- 
time ;  then  we  prepared  the  pelts,  stretched 
them  on  thongs,  and  hung  them  up  to  cure. 
This  kept  us  busy  until  supper-time. 

Before  eating  we  changed  our  buckskin 
coats  and  trousers  for  woollen  clothes, 
scrubbed  ourselves  thoroughly  with  soap  and 
water,  for  the  odor  of  the  pelts  was  anything 
but  pleasant,  and  the  rest  of  the  evening 
belonged  to  us  and  to  the  fire. 

Deer  meat,  rabbits,  quail,  wild  turkeys, 
and  pheasants,  the  product  of  our  guns  and 
traps,  hung  in  plenty  from  the  limbs  of  near- 
by trees,  well  out  of  reach  of  foxes  and  other 
prowlers,  and  the  meat,  being  frozen,  was 
kept  sweet  by  the  cold.  When  we  were 
ready  for  supper,  which  was  our  one  great 
meal,  we  went  out  to  our  forest  pantry, 
selected  the  game  we  wanted  on  our  bill  of 
fare,  and  proceeded  to  cook  it.  We  baked 
potatoes  in  the  ashes,  made  sweet,  yellow 
corn  pone  in  our  Dutch  oven,  broiled  a  juicy 
piece  of  venison,  a  rabbit,  or  a  half-dozen 


62  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

quails,  and  I  tell  you,  we  had  a  supper  fit  for 
a  king. 

After  supper  we  sat  on  our  stump  chairs 
before  the  fire,  cracking  walnuts,  hazelnuts, 
and  hickory-nuts  for  dessert.  We  loved  to 
hear  the  wind  howling  through  the  trees, 
and  to  hear  the  snow  or  sleet  dashing 
against  our  roof,  for  we  were  cosey  and  warm 
before  our  big,  talkative  fire,  and  we  knew 
that  Solomon,  half  covered  by  his  soft  bed  of 
hay,  was  snoring  happily  in  his  warm  stable 
near  by. 

One  day  two  hunters  wandered  by  our 
cabin,  and  told  us  that  Raster's  barn  over  on 
Blue  had  burned  a  week  before.  They  said 
that  an  old  Indian  had  been  seen  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  barn,  and  the  sheriff  of  the 
county  was  hunting  for  him  to  arrest  him  for 
burning  it.  That  evening,  after  supper, 
Balser  and  I  were  sitting  before  the  fire.  I 
was  cracking  nuts  and  Balser  was  trying  to 
smoke  tobacco  in  a  pipe  that  he  had  whittled 
from  a  brier  root.  Oh  !  but  he  was  sick — 
but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  story. 

"  I  don't  believe  Raster's  barn  was  burned 
by  an  Indian,"  said  Balser.  "  There  are  a 
lot  of  white  vagabonds  loafing  about   Blue 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  63 

River  who  are  a  great  deal  worse  than  the 
Indians." 

"  You're  right,  Balser,"  said  I.  "  Some 
white  folks  hate  the  Indians,  and  seem  to 
forget  that  God  made  them.  If  we  would 
treat  them  right,  they  would  not  molest  us. 
Our  white  trash  steal  from  them,  abuse  them, 
and  kill  them ;  and  when  an  Indian  retaliates, 
we  all  grow  righteously  indignant  and  want 
to  exterminate  the  whole  race  of  red  men. 
It's  a  shame,  Balser.  When  a  thief  steals 
something,  he  does  not  cry,  '  Stop  thief ! ' 
but  he  screams,  '  Indian !  Indian  ! '  If  a 
white  rascal  has  a  grudge  against  his  neigh- 
bor and  burns  the  neighbor's  barn,  he  im- 
mediately says  he  saw  an  Indian  prowling 
about,  and  the  sheriff  and  all  the  settlement 
turn  out  to  hunt  down  the  poor  savage.  Any 
Indian  they  find  will  serve  their  purpose 
and  he  is  made  to  bear  the  sins  of  his  white 
brother." 

Several  days  passed.  We  had  forgotten 
all  about  Raster's  barn,  and  thought  nothing 
more  about  the  wrongs  of  the  Indian.  The 
cold  weather  had  begun  to  break,  though  it 
was  still  very  cold.  I  especially  remember 
one   stormy   day.      We   had    taken   several 


64  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

beavers  that  day,  and  had  been  unusually 
successful  with  other  game.  The  sun  was 
going  down  as  Balser  and  I  were  walking 
toward  the  cabin,  after  hanging  the  result  of 
our  day's  work  in  Solomon's  stable.  The  sky 
in  the  west  was  an  angry,  black  red,  and  the 
wind  blew  in  sullen,  fitful  gusts.  Dark, 
threatening  clouds  flew  rapidly  overhead,  as 
if  bent  on  an  errand  of  mischief,  and  the  day 
seemed  to  be  closing  with  a  frown  and  a  growl. 

"  We'll  have  rain  before  an  hour,"  said 
Balser.  "  Then  when  the  sun  is  down  and 
the  weather  turns  colder,  look  out  for  snow 
and  sleet  and  a  blizzard." 

"  We'll  be  comfortable  anyway,"  said  I, 
"  and  Solomon  is  snug  and  warm  and  happy." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Balser,  "  but  think  of  the 
deer,  rabbits,  quail,  and  the  other  poor  wild 
creatures.  How  the  poor  things  will  suffer 
and  die  by  the  hundreds.  I  am  sorry  for  all 
but  the  wolf.  Many  a  tragedy  will  take 
place  under  the  bare  sweetbrier  bush  before 
morning,  and  in  the  spring,  the  bush  will 
bloom  as  sweetly  as  if  it  had  never  seen  the 
tragedy  at  all.  May  the  Lord  have  pity  on 
any  poor  human  being  who  is  out  without 
shelter  this  night." 


Wyandotte 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  65 

Balser  was  right.  We  had  hardly  carried 
in  our  wood  for  the  night,  when  the  rain 
began  in  a  cold,  freezing  drizzle.  Soon  the 
wind  rose  in  moaning  waves,  and  dashed  the 
rain  upon  our  clapboard  roof  until  it  seemed 
to  us  that  the  lost  souls  of  a  past  eternity  were 
crying  for  comfort  and  help. 

"  Oh,  what  a  night !  "  said  Balser,  holding 
his  hands  to  the  fire.  "  Rain  in  winter  is  as 
bad  as  fever  in  August.  The  wind  will  con- 
tinue to  rise,  and  then  the  rain  will  change  to 
sleet  and  snow ;  but,  as  you  say,  we  will  be 
warm  and  asleep,  and  by  morning  the  woods 
will  look  like  a  forest  of  crystal." 

We  ate  our  supper  and  sat  before  the  fire 
later  than  usual,  dreading  to  leave  it,  for  our 
cabin  was  a  much  better  protection  against 
cold  than  against  the  wind.  When  we  were 
ready  for  bed  that  night,  we  did  not  bank  the 
coals,  but  rolled  in  a  large  hickory  log,  in- 
tending to  replenish  the  fire  during  the 
night.  We  crept  into  our  sleeping-bags,  but 
did  not  go  to  sleep  quickly.  Soon  the  wind 
rose  to  a  gale  and  we  heard  the  sleet  beating 
down  on  the  roof.  I  could  not  resist  looking 
out  upon  the  storm,  and  I  was  rewarded  by  a 
view  of  the  worst  night  I  ever  beheld.     I  was 


66  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

glad  enough  to  get  back  to  my  warm  sleeping- 
bag,  and  Balser  grumbled  drowsily  :  — 

"  I  hope  you're  satisfied  now,  Tom  Andy 
Bill,  and  will  go  to  sleep.  Caesar !  how  the 
wind  does  howl  and  the  sleet  beat  down !  " 

We  lay  for  a  little  time,  shivering  at  the 
mere  thought  of  conditions  outside,  but  pres- 
ently went  to  sleep  and  there  was  no  storm 
for  us. 

We  had  no  clock  and  could  not  tell  the 
hour,  but  it  must  have  been  near  midnight 
when  I  was  awakened.  I  thought  I  heard  a 
knock  on  the  door.  I  started  up  and  threw 
the  bearskin  hood  back  from  my  ears.  All 
was  silent,  and  I  concluded  that  I  had  been 
dreaming.  I  was  about  to  cover  my  head 
and  go  to  sleep  again  when  I  distinctly 
heard  another  knock  on  the  door,  as  if  some 
one  were  pounding  the  boards  with  a  club. 
I  stretched  out  my  hand  and  wakened 
Balser. 

"  Some  one  is  knocking  at  the  door,"  I 
whispered.  He  at  once  came  out  of  his  bag 
and  took  down  his  gun.  I  quickly  followed 
his  example,  and  waited  for  the  knock  to  be 
repeated.     Presently  it  came  again. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  asked  Balser. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  67 

"  Let  dead  man  in,"  came  in  moaning 
tones  through  the  door. 

The  form  of  the  request  seemed  so  thor- 
oughly in  keeping  with  the  night  that  we 
thought  a  ghost  was  demanding  admittance. 
We  were  not  afraid  of  bears  and  wolves,  but 
no  man  lives  who  is  not  afraid  of  a  ghost, 
even  though  he  knows  that  no  such  thing 
exists.  There  is  a  point  in  every  man's  na- 
ture when  reason  cannot  overtake  the  super- 
stitions that  were  blood  of  his  blood  and 
bone  of  his  bone  when  his  ancestors  were 
savages. 

Balser  and  I  were  frightened;  but  when 
the  answer  came,  I  opened  the  door  cau- 
tiously, while  Balser  stood  with  his  gun  at 
full  cock,  ready  to  kill  the  ghost  should  one 
attack  us.  In  place  of  a  ghost  we  found  a 
poor,  old,  half-frozen  Indian.  He  almost  fell 
into  our  cabin.  I  caught  him  as  he  tottered 
and  led  him  to  the  fire.  His  blanket  was 
like  a  cloak  of  ice,  his  moccasins  were  hard 
as  wooden  shoes,  his  long,  tangled  hair  was  a 
mass  of  icicles,  and  the  poor  old  fellow  was 
almost  dead. 

We  asked  no  questions,  but  proceeded  to 
divest  him  of  his  frozen  blanket  and  to  make 


68  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

him  comfortable.  We  had  several  extra 
bearskins  that  were  beautifully  tanned  and 
very  soft  and  warm.  We  wrapped  these 
about  the  Indian  and  placed  him  before  the 
fire.  He  was  almost  unconscious,  but  when 
the  frost  was  thawed  out  of  him,  conscious- 
ness returned,  and  he  moaned  out  five  words, 
"  No  eat  since  two  days." 

A  few  sweet  potatoes  and  a  piece  of  corn 
pone  were  left  from  supper.  Balser  brought 
these  from  the  shelf  and  placed  them  before 
the  Indian.  He  fell  upon  them  like  a 
famished  wolf,  but  Balser  allowed  him  to  eat 
only  a  small  portion.  I  took  a  dressed  quail 
from  a  shelf  and  was  about  to  hang  it  over  the 
fire  to  broil,  but  the  Indian  snatched  it  from 
my  hand  and  ate  it  raw,  bones  and  all,  before 
I  had  time  to  recover  from  my  astonishment. 

We  built  up  the  fire,  and  the  Indian 
stretched  himself  out  in  front  of  it.  He  lay 
on  the  floor  moaning,  but  soon  after  we  had 
covered  him  with  bearskins,  he  seemed  to 
sleep,  and  we  crept  into  our  bags,  though  for 
a  long  time  there  was  no  sleep  in  our  eyes. 
Dogs  hate  Indians,  and  Tige  and  Prince 
growled  viciously  at  first.  We  silenced  them 
with  a  switch,  and  before  long  they  tolerated 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  69 

the  situation,  though  they  were  not  at  all 
satisfied  with  it. 

Toward  morning  Balser  and  I  slept,  but 
we  were  soon  awakened  by  the  Indian,  who 
was  talking  loudly  in  a  strange  incoherent 
mixture  of  Indian  and  English.  We  hur- 
riedly got  out  of  our  sleeping-bags,  and 
found  our  guest  trying  to  rise  to  his  feet. 
The  poor  fellow  groaned  and  placed  his 
hand  on  his  breast  as  if  in  great  pain.  His 
hands,  that  had  been  so  cold  earlier  in  the 
night,  were  now  burning  hot,  and  we  soon 
discovered  that  he  was  very  ill  with  a  fever. 
We  induced  him  to  lie  down  again,  and  tried 
to  cover  him  with  a  soft  bearskin,  but  he 
angrily  tossed  it  off.  A  sick  Indian  on  our 
hands  was  no  trifling  matter,  though  we  were 
not  sorry  we  had  taken  him  in.  We  were 
glad.  Soon  we  were  very  glad.  I  hold  to 
the  belief  that  everything  of  good  a  man  does 
in  this  world  returns  to  him  in  some  form, 
and  that  every  moment  of  suffering  one  un- 
necessarily brings  upon  another  will,  soon  or 
late,  fall  back  upon  his  own  head. 

All  that  day  and  the  next  night,  the  Indian 
tossed  in  a  raging  fever.  Much  of  the  time 
he  talked  in  his  delirium,  and  much  that  he 


70  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

said  was  spoken  in  English.  The  evening 
after  he  arrived  he  was  lying  on  a  soft  bed 
of  hay  that  Balser  had  made  for  him  in  a 
corner  of  the  cabin.  We  had  finished  supper 
and  were  cracking  nuts  for  dessert.  The 
weather  had  not  improved  and  the  blizzard 
was  still  raging,  but  we  had  piled  on  great 
armfuls  of  wood  and  the  cabin  was  cosey,  for 
the  fire  was  doing  its  full  and  glorious  duty. 
The  Indian  lay  unconscious  of  blizzard  or  fire, 
muttering,  talking,  and  silent  by  turns. 

"  What's  your  name  ?  "  asked  Balser,  ad- 
dressing the  Indian. 

Balser  spoke  in  jest  and  did  not  expect  an 
answer,  but  to  our  surprise  one  came. 

"  Wyandotte,"  said  the  Indian,  speaking  as 
one  who  talks  in  his  sleep. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ? "  asked  Balser, 
pleased  with  the  success  of  his  first  question. 

Again  came  the  word,  "Wyandotte." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Wyandotte,"  answered  the  Indian. 

"  Why  are  you  going  there  ? "  asked  Balser. 

"  To  get  the  gold,  gold,  gold." 

At  the  time  we  attached  no  importance 
to  his  words,  but  Balser  continued  his  cate- 
chism. 


"He  angrily  tossed  off  the  bearskin" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  71 

"  What  gold  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  Indian  made  no  reply.  After  a  long 
pause,  Balser  laughingly  asked :  — 

■  Where  is  the  gold  ? " 

"  In  the  home  of  Wyandotte  Wyolyo,"  an- 
swered the  Indian.  Then  he  grew  excited  and 
spoke  rapidly,  but  all  that  he  said  was  uttered 
in  the  Indian  language,  which  we  did  not 
understand  sufficiently  to  catch  his  meaning, 
though  we  could  partially  understand  an 
Indian  when  he  spoke  slowly. 

The  Indian  was  very  sick  for  five  days, 
and  we  nursed  him  carefully.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  the  fever  left  him  and  he  quickly 
recovered,  but  he  was  very  weak,  and  we 
asked  him  to  remain  in  our  cabin  until  he 
was  strong.  I  confess  that  our  invitation 
was  not  given  out  of  pure  sympathy.  We 
hoped  to  be  able  to  make  him  talk  of  the 
treasure,  but  we  knew  that  we  would  have 
to  go  about  it  cautiously,  for  an  Indian  is  by 
nature  extremely  wary  and  very  suspicious. 

We,  of  course,  had  little  faith  in  the 
theory  that  the  gold  of  which  Wyandotte 
had  spoken  was  anything  more  than  a  golden 
dream,  but  his  words  had  put  the  dream  into 
our  heads,  and  while  we  did  not  expect  to 


72  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

gain  anything  from  Wyandotte,  it  would 
cost  us  nothing  to  keep  him,  and  there 
might  be  more  truth  in  the  words  uttered 
in  his  delirium  than  we  supposed.  There- 
fore we  were  very  kind  to  Wyandotte,  partly 
because  we  were  sorry  for  him  and  liked  the 
old  fellow,  but  chiefly  because  the  gold  bug 
had  got  into  our  bonnets,  and  we  hoped  that 
the  dream  might,  by  some  wonderful  stroke 
of  fortune,  become  a  glorious  reality. 

Two  weeks  after  the  Indian  had  come  to 
our  cabin,  a  deputy  sheriff  of  the  county 
rode  up  to  our  door.  Balser  and  I  were 
stretching  pelts  outside  the  cabin,  and 
Wyandotte  was  lying  inside  before  the  fire. 
We  were  standing  near  the  door,  which  was 
open,  and  the  Indian  heard  all  that  was 
said. 

"  Hello,  boys,"  said  the  deputy  sheriff. 
"  Did  you  hear  about  Raster's  barn  burn- 
ing?" 

"  Yes,  we  heard  about  it,"  I  answered.  I 
knew  the  sheriff  was  hunting  the  Indian 
who  was  supposed  to  have  burned  the  barn, 
and  I  knew  he  would  take  Wyandotte  if  he 
saw  him,  so  I  stepped  to  the  door  and  partly 
closed  it 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  73 

"  An  Indian  burned  it,"  said  the  deputy 
sheriff.  "  I  heard  there  was  one  up  this 
way.  Have  you  seen  a  redskin  prowling 
about  here  ? " 

Balser,  who  was  always  quick  with  an 
answer,  said :  — 

"  No,  we  haven't  seen  an  Indian  prowling 
about  here." 

You  notice  he  did  not  say  he  had  not  seen 
an  Indian.  He  said  he  had  not  seen  one 
prowling  about,  and  he  told  the  truth,  for 
the  Indian  had  not  been  out  of  the  cabin. 
We  wanted  to  save  Wyandotte,  because  we 
did  not  believe  he  had  burned  Raster's  barn; 
but  we  also  wanted  to  win  his  gratitude,  for 
the  magic  word  "  gold  "  was  ringing  in  our 
ears,  and  we  hoped  to  coax  the  secret  from 
him  if  he  had  one. 

The  deputy  rode  away  and  we  went  into 
the  cabin. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  the  deputy  sheriff 
said  ? "  asked  Balser. 

"  I  hear.  He  want  me.  I  no  burn  barn," 
answered  Wyandotte. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  burned  the  barn,"  I 
said ;  "  and  if  I  can  save  you  from  the  clutches 
of  these  fellows,  I  mean  to  do  it." 


74  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

A  long  pause  ensued,  and  Wyandotte 
said:  — 

"  Indian  remember,  too.  What  you  call  ?  " 
He  meant  to  say,  "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Tom  Andy  Bill  Addison,"  I 
answered,  "  and  this  boy's  name  is  Balser 
Brent" 

"  Tomandybilladdison,"  repeated  the  Ind- 
ian, going  over  the  name  many  times  and 
pronouncing  it  as  one  word.  He  remained 
silent  for  a  long  time,  as  if  he  were  thinking, 
and  then  spoke  slowly,  hesitatingly :  "  I  re- 
member, too ;  remember  long  time.  Indian's 
memory  for  good  comes  again  and  again  like 
the  rains  in  the  spring,  and  his  memory  for 
bad  comes  like  the  lightning,  not  often,  but 
sure  to  kill.  Tomandybilladdison  and  Balser- 
brent  been  good  to  Indian.  Indian  sure  to 
remember.  Maybe  some  long  day  he  pay 
back  again  —  in  gold,  maybe." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  Maybe  Wyandotte;  maybe  some  other 
name ;  not  know,  only  maybe." 

"  Where  is  Wyandotte  ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  Here,"  replied  the  Indian,  pointing  to  the 
spot  on  which  he  stood. 

"  But  where  is  the  place  that  you  call  the 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  75 

home  of  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  ?  You  spoke  of 
it  the  other  night  when  you  were  sick,"  said 
Balser. 

"  Oh,  that  sick  talk.  Sick  Indian  got  no 
sense." 

We  did  not  agree  with  him,  but  we  pushed 
the  matter  no  further,  knowing  that  our 
questions  would  put  him  on  his  guard. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   BEAR   FIGHT   IN   A   SNOWDRIFT 

A  day  or  two  after  the  conversation  with 
Wyandotte,  Balser  and  I  had  our  fight  with 
the  three  bears,  and  this  was  how  it  came 
about. 

We  rose  early  one  morning,  and  I  went 
out  to  feed  and  water  Solomon.  When  I 
took  him  to  the  creek  where  we  had  cut  a 
hole  in  the  ice  for  him  to  drink,  I  noticed 
bear  tracks  in  the  snow  on  the  bank  near  the 
water  hole,  from  which  a  bear  evidently  had 
been  drinking.  When  I  had  taken  Solomon 
back  to  the  stable,  I  went  to  the  cabin  and 
asked  Wyandotte  to  go  with  me  to  the  water 
hole  and  give  me  his  opinion  about  the  age 
of  the  bear  tracks,  although  I  was  sure  they 
had  not  been  there  the  night  before.  The 
Indian  went  with  me,  and  after  closely  examin- 
ing the  tracks,  he  said  :  — 

"  Ugh  !  Big  bear  !  Heap  big  bear ! 
Wounded  —  lame   in   one   leg  —  hind   leg." 

76 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  77 

How  the  Indian  obtained  all  his  informa- 
tion from  the  half-blurred  tracks,  I  don't 
know,  but  he  seemed  sure  of  what  he  said, 
and  I  unhesitatingly  believed  him.  If  we 
could  kill  this  bear,  it  would  be  a  stroke  of 
great  good  luck  for  us.  Its  skin  would  be 
worth  ten  shillings  and  its  meat  would  not 
only  furnish  us  food  for  the  dogs,  but  would 
surely  bring  us  five  dollars  at  the  town  of 
Blue  River. 

We  had  seen  but  one  bear  since  the  cold 
weather  began.  These  curious  animals  eat 
ravenously  in  the  summer  and  fall,  and  grow 
fat.  When  the  very  cold  weather  comes  on, 
they  seem  to  be  aware  of  its  approach,  so  they 
seek  a  cave  or  a  hollow  tree  and  go  to  sleep 
until  pleasant  weather  returns.  Frequently, 
when  they  cannot  find  a  cave  or  a  hollow 
tree,  they  go  to  sleep  under  a  cliff  where  the 
snow  is  apt  to  drift,  and  there  they  hibernate 
for  a  time  beneath  the  snow. 

In  very  cold  countries,  bears  sometimes 
sleep  for  four  months;  but  our  winters  are 
comparatively  short,  and  two  weeks  is  a  long 
hibernating  period  in  this  climate.  While 
this  sleep  lasts  the  bear  lives  on  its  fat,  accu- 
mulated during  the  feeding  season.     We  had 


78  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

not  expected  to  find  a  bear  prowling  about, 
and  the  tracks  were  a  most  welcome  surprise. 
This  one  probably  had  been  disturbed  in  its 
dreams. 

We  lost  no  time  in  eating  breakfast,  you 
may  be  sure ;  and  when  we  had  finished,  we 
looked  carefully  to  our  guns,  bullets,  and 
powder-horns,  gave  our  knives  a  keen  edge 
on  the  whetstone,  and  started  on  the  trail  of 
the  bear.  Tige  and  Prince  were  delighted 
and  danced  about  us  in  great  glee.  They 
seemed  to  know  that  something  besides 
mink  and  muskrat  was  in  the  wind.  When 
we  took  up  the  trail,  Wyandotte  wanted  to 
go  with  us;  but  he  was  not  strong,  and  we 
told  him  to  stay  at  home  to  watch  the  cabin 
and  stretch  a  lot  of  pelts  that  we  had  left 
uncared  for  over  night. 

We  easily  followed  the  tracks  over  a  route 
that  wound  in  all  directions  through  the 
woods,  but  we  did  not  so  easily  overtake  the 
bear.  By  noon  we  were  hungry  and  pretty 
tired,  for  it  is  hard  work  walking  through 
snow  over  which  a  thin  crust  of  ice  has  been 
frozen.  We  had  taken  our  dinner  with  us, 
and  shortly  after  noon  we  rested  and  ate. 
Of  course  Tige  and  Prince  got  nothing  to 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  79 

eat,  although  they  danced  about  us  and 
begged  eagerly  for  just  one  little  mouthful. 
They  gave  us  to  understand  distinctly  that 
they  were  very  hungry,  and  with  water 
streaming  from  their  mouths,  they  watched 
every  bite  we  took.  It  was  cruel  not  to  feed 
them,  for  we  had  given  them  no  breakfast; 
but  if  we  satisfied  their  hunger,  they  would 
not  only  become  lazy,  but  their  sense  of  smell 
would  become  less  keen  and  they  would  be 
of  no  use  to  us  in  spooring. 

If  we  should  find  the  bear  or  should  give 
up  trying  to  find  it,  Tige  and  Prince  would 
get  their  suppers  at  once.  We  hoped  to 
feed  them  on  bear  meat,  but  if  we  failed  in 
that,  we  would  kill  a  rabbit  for  them. 

Frequently  the  dogs  were  tempted  to  chase 
a  rabbit  and  secure  their  own  dinner,  but 
they  knew  if  they  even  so  much  as  barked 
at  a  rabbit,  they  would  receive  a  terrible 
thrashing ;  so  the  faithful  friends  went  hungry 
for  our  sake,  and  that  was  more  than  we 
would  have  done  for  them. 

Balser  and  I  were  very  hungry,  so  we  ate 
all  our  dinner  and  saved  nothing  for  the 
poor  dogs  nor  for  ourselves  later  on.  The 
Indians  have  a  saying,  "  The  man  who  eats 


80  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

all  he  has  at  one  meal  may  eat  nothing  at  the 
next."  Balser  and  I  were  sorry  that  evening 
that  we  had  been  so  greedy  at  noon,  for  we 
were  very  hungry  before  we  had  another 
meal,  as  you  shall  hear.  After  dinner  we 
again  took  up  the  spoor,  and  the  dogs,  who 
understood  that  their  dinner  depended  upon 
finding  the  bear,  gave  us  a  rapid  lead. 

This  adventure  happened  early  in  Janu- 
ary when  the  days  were  short,  and  Balser 
and  I  were  so  intent  on  our  pursuit  that  we 
did  not  notice  the  sun  until  it  was  almost 
down.  We  had  lost  the  tracks  an  hour 
earlier. 

"  We'd  better  be  turning  for  home,  Tom 
Andy  Bill,"  said  Balser.  "  It  will  soon  be 
dark,  and  when  the  light  gives  out  we  can't 
see  our  tracks  home." 

"  Right  you  are,"  I  answered,  a  feeling  of 
uneasiness  suddenly  coming  over  me.  "  I'm 
blest  if  I  know  where  we  are." 

"Neither  do  I,"  answered  Balser;  "but  if 
we  start  at  once,  we  can  follow  our  tracks 
until  dark,  and  then  we'll  have  to  make  the 
rest  of  our  way  home  as  best  we  can." 

While  we  stood  debating  the  situation,  we 
heard    Tige   and    Prince    barking    furiously 


"WK   HAD    DISTURBED    THUS    SLEEP,   AND    THEY   COULD   NOT   GET 
THEIR    EYES  OPEN  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  81 

quite  a  distance  ahead  of  us.  The  dogs  had 
been  running  rapidly,  and  we  could  not  see 
them ;  but  we  knew  they  were  just  beyond  a 
small  hill  that  stood  three  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  us,  a  short  distance  to  the  right. 

The  barking  of  the  dogs  drove  all  thoughts 
of  home-going  out  of  our  heads,  and  we  hur- 
ried forward,  hoping  that  the  bear  was  at 
bay.  After  we  had  turned  the  bend  around 
the  base  of  the  hill  —  we  did  not  go  over  it 
—  we  saw  Tige  and  Prince  barking  furiously 
at  nothing.  When  we  came  up  to  them, 
they  were  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
barking  toward  it,  but  we  could  not  see  even 
a  rabbit  track.  In  front  of  the  dogs  there 
was  apparently  nothing  but  a  smooth,  snow- 
covered  hillside,  ten  or  twelve  feet  high. 

We  stood  watching  the  dogs,  and  soon 
Balser  said,  "  Tige,  you're  a  fool ;  "  but  Tige 
seemed  to  answer  back,  "  I'm  not  a  fool." 

The  dogs  continued  to  bark  furiously. 
Their  hair  rose  angrily  and  they  faced  the 
snow-covered  hillside  so  persistently,  that  we 
thought  surely  they  had  gone  crazy  from 
hunger.  But  it  often  happens  that  when  we 
don't  understand  other  men — and  dogs  — 
we  call  them  crazy.     Everything  great  that 


82  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

has  been  accomplished  has  been  done  by 
crazy  men,  if  the  ignorant  people  who  have 
lived  about  them  are  to  be  believed.  Men 
said  Galileo  was  crazy  because  he  declared 
the  earth  was  round  and  revolved  about  the 
sun.  All  the  world  thought  Columbus  was 
crazy  when  he  insisted  that  he  could  sail  west- 
ward and  reach  the  land  of  the  East.  Even 
the  English  Parliament  thought  Stephenson 
was  crazy  when  he  said  that  the  steam  loco- 
motive and  the  railroads  could  accomplish  all 
he  claimed.  Morse  was  crazy,  many  persons 
said,  when  he  announced  that  he  could  send 
a  message  a  thousand  miles  in  a  few  seconds. 
The  truth  is,  a  fool  thinks  every  man  but 
himself  insane.  Balser  and  I  were  fools  to 
think  that  our  dogs  were  crazy.  We  were  so 
vain,  we  could  not  believe  that  they  knew 
better  than  we  did  what  they  were  about.  I 
soon  grew  disgusted  watching  the  apparently 
foolish  dogs  barking  at  the  white  hillside, 
and  said :  — 

"  Come,  Balser,  let  us  start  home.  These 
fool  dogs  will  keep  us  here  for  a  week  if  we 
listen  to  them.  The  sun  will  be  down  in 
half  an  hour,  and  in  an  hour  it  will  be  dark. 
I'm  cold  and  hungry  and    I'm  going  home." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  83 

"  All  right,  I'm  with  you,"  answered  Balser; 
so  we  fastened  the  gun  straps  to  our  guns, 
slung  them  over  our  shoulders,  and  started 
home. 

When  the  dogs  saw  us  going,  they  loudly 
protested.  They  said  as  plainly  as  if  they 
were  speaking  English,  "  Don't  go,  you  fools, 
don't  go."  Of  course  it  was  very  insolent  in 
our  dogs  to  call  us  fools,  but  after  all  they 
were  right.  We  did  not  heed  them  and  con- 
tinued to  retrace  our  steps.  The  dogs  refused 
to  follow  us,  and  after  we  had  gone  a  little 
way,  Balser  whistled  for  them.  They  were 
well-trained  animals  and  always  responded 
instantly  to  their  master's  call ;  but  on  this 
occasion  they  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  we 
could  hear  their  voices  coming  faintly  to  us 
from  the  other  side  of  the  little  hill,  which  was 
now  quite  a  distance  behind  us.  Balser  whis- 
tled again  and  again.  Still  the  dogs  barked, 
but  did  not  come  in  response  to  the  call. 

"  If  I  have  to  go  back  for  those  crazy  dogs, 
I'll  take  a  switch  and  lay  it  on  till  they'll 
remember,"  said  Balser.  He  waited  for  a 
little  time  and  said :  "  Hold  my  gun,  Tom 
Andy  Bill.  I'll  cut  a  switch  and  teach  those 
fellows  a  lesson  of  obedience." 


84  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

Balser  broke  a  switch  from  a  bush  and 
started  back  to  fetch  the  dogs.  After  he  left 
me  I  began  to  wonder  if  by  any  chance  we 
could  be  wrong  and  the  dogs  right.  I  had 
the  guns,  so  I  hurriedly  followed  Balser,  and 
we  turned  the  base  of  the  hill  together. 

The  dogs  were  still  barking  at  the  snow- 
covered  hillside.  Nothing  but  the  smooth 
snow  was  visible.  Balser,  with  his  switch 
lifted  ready  to  strike,  was  almost  up  to  the 
dogs,  when  Tige  —  I  believe  he  was  the 
smartest  dog  that  ever  lived  —  began  to  dig 
furiously  into  the  snow.  Then  Prince,  who 
was  also  a  sensible  dog,  though  always  play- 
ing u  second  fiddle  "  to  Tige,  began  to  make 
the  snow  fly. 

The  dogs  howled  and  whined  in  their 
efforts  to  tell  us  something  that  was  on  their 
minds,  but  we  did  not  have  sense  enough  to 
know  what  they  were  saying.  We  sometimes 
get  angry  at  dumb  brutes  because  they  do 
not  understand  what  we  say  to  them,  but  we 
don't  appreciate  our  own  dumbness  in  failing 
to  understand  what  they  say  to  us.  They 
understand  us  much  better  than  we  under- 
stand them,  and  none  but  a  cruel  man  will 
beat  them  because  of  an  ignorance  which  is 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  85 

less  than  his  own.  But  the  dogs  said  so 
much  and  said  it  so  plainly  that  we  began  to 
understand  them. 

"  By  Jove,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  this  is  not  a 
hillside.  It's  a  great  snowdrift,"  said  Balser. 
"  The  snow  must  be  five  or  six  feet  deep  in 
there." 

He  threw  away  his  switch,  and  we  watched 
the  dogs  burrowing  into  the  drift.  They 
dug  rapidly.  Soon  their  heads  disappeared 
in  the  tunnel  they  were  making,  then  their 
bodies,  and  by  and  by  nothing  was  visible 
but  the  tips  of  their  tails.  They  understood 
the  art  of  tunnel-making.  They  broke  the 
snow  with  their  front  feet  and  threw  it  back ; 
then  they  stood  on  their  front  feet  and 
with  their  hind  feet  sent  the  snow  flying 
out  through  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  behind 
them. 

Balser  and  I  supposed  that  the  dogs  would 
find  a  frozen  covey  of  quails,  or  perhaps  a  fox  ; 
but  we  let  them  have  their  own  way,  since 
they  seemed  determined  on  it,  and  watched 
the  process  of  tunnel-building  with  ever  in- 
creasing interest. 

As  the  dogs  burrowed  into  the  drift  they 
continued  barking,  and  their  voices  came  to 


86  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

us  in  muffled  howls  and  whines  from  be- 
neath the  snow.  While  we  were  watching 
the  white  hillside,  it  suddenly  rose  in  a  little 
mountain  of  snow,  as  if  by  a  volcanic  up- 
heaval. I  confess  that  I  was  frightened  to 
see  the  apparently  solid  earth  acting  in  such 
an  unusual  manner. 

■  Give  me  my  gun,  quick,  quick ! "  cried 
Balser.     "  Don't  you  know  what  it  is  ? " 

I  handed  him  his  gun,  still  watching  the 
heaving  hillside  with  a  curiosity  that  bor- 
dered on  timidity. 

"There's  a  bear  under  the  snow,"  cried 
Balser,  "and  he'll  kill  the  dogs  if  we  don't 
help  them.  They  can't  fight  under  there 
in  such  close  quarters;  and  if  there's  a  bear 
there,  it  will  claw  them  to  pieces  in  no  time." 

Balser  bravely  waded  into  the  snowdrift 
toward  the  upheaval,  and  I  followed  close  by 
his  side.  Suddenly  my  foot  touched  some- 
thing soft.  Immediately  another  upheaval 
took  place,  and  I  was  a  part  of  it.  I  felt 
myself  lifted  into  the  air  and  then  I  felt  my- 
self go  down  backward,  head  first  into  the 
snow.  As  I  fell  I  saw  Balser  taking  part  in 
another  upheaval  not  six  feet  from  me.  I 
shall   never  forget   the   comical    expression 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  87 

of  surprise  on  his  face,  and  although  I  was 
frightened  almost  out  of  my  wits,  I  could 
not  help  laughing  as  I  went  under  the  snow. 
I  scrambled  out  pretty  quickly,  and  as  I  was 
brushing  the  snow  from  my  face,  Balser  also 
came  up  from  the  white  depths.  We  had 
lost  our  hats,  and  our  guns  were  somewhere 
at  the  bottom  of  the  snow. 

"  By  George,"  said  Balser,  sputtering  and 
blowing  and  rubbing  the  snow  from  his  face, 
"  I  believe  there's  a  nest  of  bears  in  there ! 
Let's  get  our  guns." 

We  waded  back  after  our  guns,  and  while  I 
was  feeling  about  under  the  snow  for  mine, 
a  bear  that  seemed  to  be  about  two  sizes 
larger  than  a  mule  rose  right  out  of  the 
drift  not  two  feet  in  front  of  me,  and  shook 
himself.  I  left  my  gun  where  it  was.  You 
see  I  didn't  want  it  as  badly  as  I  had  thought 
I  did. 

The  snowdrift  where  I  had  fallen  was 
breast  deep,  and  I  could  not  make  a  rapid 
retreat,  though  I  tried  as  hard  as  I  ever  tried 
in  my  life.  I  was  very  busy,  but  I  had  time 
to  glance  toward  Balser,  and  saw,  standing 
in  front  of  him,  another  monster  bear  that 
had  just  risen  from  the  snow.     At  the  same 


88  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

instant  there  was  an  upheaval  of  snow  be- 
tween us,  and  a  third  bear  showed  himself, 
apparently  ready  for  fight. 

This  all  happened  in  a  few  seconds.  I 
tried  to  go  backward,  but  stepped  on  one 
of  the  dogs  and  fell.  As  I  went  under  the 
snow,  my  bear  came  down  on  top  of  me, 
and  I  thought  my  day  had  come.  The 
dogs  were  under  the  snow  and,  of  course, 
could  help  neither  me  nor  themselves.  I, 
too,  was  completely  under  the  snow,  but 
worse  still  I  was  under  the  bear,  and  it 
seemed  to  weigh  a  ton.  I  expected  every 
instant  to  feel  its  great  horny  claws  in  my 
flesh,  or  to  have  my  bones  crushed  between 
its  fearful  jaws,  but  to  my  surprise  nothing 
of  the  kind  happened.  I  could  not  move, 
and  I  concluded  the  bear  was  trying  to 
smother  me  to  death. 

After  a  long  time  —  it  seemed  long  to  me, 
but  it  could  not  have  been  many  seconds  — 
I  heard  one  of  the  dogs  growling  near  my 
head.  Then  I  felt  the  bear  trying  to  rise.  I 
crawled  from  under  him  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  made  the  effort  of  my  life  to  get  away. 
I  succeeded,  and  when  I  gained  my  feet,  there 
stood  two  of  the  bears  rubbing  their  eyes,  but 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  89 

there  was  no  Balser,  no  dogs,  and  no  third 
bear.  I  concluded  that  Balser  and  the  third 
bear  were  engaged  in  a  death  struggle  under 
the  snow,  so  I  hurried  to  the  spot  where  Bal- 
ser had  disappeared. 

Just  as  I  started,  Balser  rose  from  the 
snow  and  his  bear  quickly  rose  beside  him. 
Balser  held  his  long  knife  in  his  hand  and 
was  covered  with  blood.  There  had  been  a 
death  struggle  under  the  snow,  sure  enough. 
I  thought  Balser  was  killed.  I  helped  him 
out  of  the  drift  and  anxiously  inquired  if  he 
was  hurt. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  "  but  the 
bear  is  hurt.     Look  out  for  him." 

Hardly  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth 
when  the  wounded  bear  came  towards  us. 
Balser,  knife  in  hand,  looked  like  the  incarna- 
tion of  rage.  Instead  of  running  from  the 
bear  he  ran  toward  it,  and  the  fight  that  had 
begun  under  the  drift  was  finished  above  the 
snow.  Balser  struck  the  bear  with  his  long 
knife  just  back  of  the  shoulder ;  then  he 
sprang  behind  the  brute  and  struck  it  again 
and  again.  The  dogs,  having  extricated 
themselves,  came  to  his  aid,  and  I  then  en- 
tered the  combat.     Four  against  one  did  not 


90  UNCLE   TOM   ANDY  BILL 

seem  fair,  especially  as  the  bear  was  hardly 
awake,  but  "  needs  must  when  Old  Nick 
drives,"  and  so  we  killed  the  bear. 

The  other  two  bears  were  still  standing  up- 
right in  the  snowdrift,  rubbing  their  sleepy 
eyes.  Poor  brutes  !  We  had  disturbed- -their 
rest,  and  they  could  not.  get  their  eyes  open. 

Balser,  who  was  the  bravest  boy  lever  knew, 
hurried  back  into  the  drift,  dived  beneath  the 
snow,  got  his  gun  right  from  under  one  of 
the  bears,  and  came  quickly  back  to  me. 

I,  ashamed  to  be  behind  Balser  in  bravery, 
essayed  the  same  daring  feat ;  but  when  I  got 
my  gun  and  rose  to  my  feet,  the  bear  evinced 
a  sudden,  unexpected  affection  for  me,  and 
in  less  time  than  I  can  tell  it,  had  me  in  its 
great  hairy  arms.  It  gave  me  one  mighty 
hug,  and  I  thought  another  squeeze  like  that 
would  finish  Tom  Andy  Bill.  But  before  the 
other  hug  came,  I  heard  the  report  of  a  gun 
close  behind  me.  I  also  heard  a  oullet  strike, 
the  bear's  head  within  five  inches  of  my  nose. 
A  little  splash  of  blood  struck  me-in  the  face. 
I  felt  the  bear's  hold  relax,  and  the  brute  and 
T *  °nt  under  the  snow  together  for  tj\e  second 

ust  have  lost  consciousnessvffer  a*  minute 


K'i,M»KKI>    I. IKK  THE   INCARNATION   OF   KA(;K '' 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  91 

or  two,  for  the  next  thing  I  remember  was 
Balser  dragging  me  from  under  the  dead  bear. 
When  he  helped  me  out  of  the  drift,  we  were 
a  pair  of  beauties.  Balser,  covered  with  blood, 
looked  like  a  demon.  My  face  was  scratched 
and  cut  in  twenty  places,  and  every  bone  and 
muscle  in  my  body  ached. 

I  looked  at  Balser  and  he  looked  at  me, 
and  though  neither  of  us  knew  how  badly  we 
were  hurt,  we  could  not  help  laughing,  though, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  we  wanted  to  cry. 

"  There  goes  the  other  bear !  "  I  cried, 
pointing  to  the  retreating  form  of  the  third 
sleeper. 

"  I  don'tcare,"  answered  Balser;  "  I  wouldn't 
go  after  him  if  he  had  a  hundred  hides. 
I  know  when  I  have  enough.  Let's  in- 
voice." 

We  sat  down  in  the  snow  and  examined 
our  wounds  as  well  as  we  could. 

"  I  believe  that  every  rib  is  broken,"  said  I. 

"  I  wonder  if  all  this  blood  is  mine,"  mused 
Balser. 

Cold  as  it  was,"  we  took  off  his  clothing, 
but  we  found  no  wounds  save  a  few  scratches 
on  his  face  and  neck;  so  we  concluded  that 
the  gore  had  been  contributed  by  the  bear. 


92  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

Balser  examined  my  ribs  and  pronounced 
them  all  whole,  though  I  insisted  that  every 
one  of  them  was  broken  from  my  spine. 

u  We'll  get  stiff  if  we  sit  here,"  said 
Balser.     "  Let  us  start  home." 

"  We  had  better  cover  the  bears  with  snow 
to  protect  the  carcasses  from  the  wolves  and 
foxes,"  I  suggested. 

"You  may  cover  them  if  you  wish,"  he 
answered,  starting  away.  "  I  wouldn't  stay 
to  cover  a  chest  of  gold.  I'd  even  leave 
Wyandotte's  treasure.     I  want  to  get  home." 

We  did,  however,  remain  long  enough  to 
cut  a  good  piece  of  bear  meat  for  the  dogs ; 
and  when  our  faithful  friends  had  swallowed 
it,  we  covered  the  bears  with  snow  and 
started  for  home.  Darkness  soon  fell,  and 
in  less  than  a  half-hour  we  were  lost  in  the 
deep  forest. 

"  I  am  sleepy,"  said  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
"  and  I  am  going  to  bed."  A  chorus  of 
protests  went  up  from  the  audience. 

"  Tell  us  if  you  got  home,"  said  one. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  stop  while  you're  lost 
in  the  woods,"  said  another. 

But  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  said:  "I'll  tell 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  93 

you  all  about  it  to-morrow  evening,  if  I  don't 
go  to  church." 

Mab  climbed  to  his  knees,  put  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  and  whispered  excitedly :  — 

"  Please  tell  me,  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,  if 
you  got  home  alive.  If  you  died  in  the 
woods  that  night,  I'll  die  too." 

He  kissed  her  curls  and  said  :  — 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  die,  sweetheart. 
Don't  you  see  I'm  here  ?  But  I'm  tired  and 
don't  want  to  talk  any  more." 

So  Mab  climbed  down  from  his  knees  and 
led  him  by  the  finger  off  to  slumber  land. 


CHAPTER   V 

LOST    IN   THE   WOODS 

Next  evening  there  was  an  eager  audience 
awaiting  Tom  Andy  Bill.  He  lighted  his 
pipe,  and  Mab  drew  her  chair  close  beside 
him,  to  be  within  easy  reach  of  the  big,  help- 
ing finger  at  the  "  scary  "  places. 

"  Let's  pretend  that  maybe  you  and  Balser 
didn't  get  home,"  said  Mab,  snuggling  up  to 
her  friend  ;  but  after  a  pause  she  continued : 
"  No,  we'll  not  pretend  that  you  didn't  get 
home ;  that  makes  me  want  to  cry.  We'll 
pretend  that  we  don't  know  whether  Balser 
got  home  or  not.  Then  it  will  be  more 
scary,  and  make  us  feel  nice  and  shivery." 

"All  right,"  answered  Tom  Andy  Bill; 
"  maybe  Balser  didn't  get  home.  Perhaps 
there  will  be  no  pretending." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Tom!  No,  no!  I  can't 
stand  that  either!  Please  tell  me  that 
Balser  did  get  home,"  pleaded  Mab,  a  flood 
of  tears  almost  ready  to  spring  from  her  eyes. 

94 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  95 

"  Yes,  yes,  sweetheart,"  said  Tom  Andy 
Bill,  caressingly ;  "  we  both  got  home,  but  we 
had  an  awful  night  of  it" 

"  Oh,  not  too  awful.  Please  don't  make  it 
too  awful,  Uncle  Tom,  or  I'll  just  shiver  — 
just  shiver  to  death." 

Every  one  laughed  except  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill.  He  never  laughed  when  Mab 
was  serious. 

"I'll  have  to  tell  you  about  it  as  it 
happened,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  make  up  the 
stories  —  couldn't  do  it  to  save  my  life." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  are  here,  anyway.  Let  me 
hold  your  hand.  Then  when  we  come  to 
the  very  bad  places,  I'll  always  know  you 
are  safe." 

The  love  in  Mab's  little  heart  was  dearer 
to  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  than  the  blood  in 
his  own.  The  baby  girl  reached  up,  grasped 
one  of  the  big  fingers,  and  said :  — 

"  All  right.  Now  go  ahead."  And 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  began. 

THE   STORY 

I  tell  you,  there  are  only  two  creatures  in 
the  world  that  it  does  not  pay  to  befriend  — 
a  snake  and  a  fool.    Even  a  snake  may  some- 


96  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

times  be  grateful,  but  a  fool,  never.  Balser 
and  I  befriended  the  Indian,  and  we  had  our 
reward  sooner  than  we  expected.  I  never 
saw  an  Indian  that  was  entirely  a  fool ;  that 
distinction  is  left  for  the  white  man. 

When  Balser  and  I  discovered  that  we 
were  lost,  we  stopped.  I  looked  about  in 
the  heavens,  and  thought  I  saw  the  North 
Star.  I  knew  our  general  direction  in  pursu- 
ing the  bear  had  been  northeast,  therefore 
we  would  take  a  southwesterly  course  in 
returning.  We  were  not  at  all  sure  of  our 
route,  so  we  walked  slowly;  but  soon  we 
came  to  the  banks  of  a  stream  that  we 
thought  was  Blue  River,  and  we  at  once 
knew  we  were  going  wrong. 

"  If  we  go  down  the  river,"  said  Balser, 
"  we  ought  to  reach  Raster's  house  in  an 
hour  or  two  at  least,  and  we  can  get  shelter. 
I  don't  want  to  stay  out  all  night  with  my 
scratches  and  wounds." 

"  All  right,"  said  I,  and  we  started,  as  we 
thought,  down  the  stream  towards  Raster's. 

The  dogs,  too,  were  lost,  and  clung  tim- 
idly to  our  heels.  Perhaps  if  we  had  been 
as  wise  as  they,  we  should  have  been  able  to 
find  our  way  home.     The  snow  soon  began 


The  i>'h,>,  i< M>,  uiivi.  ioan  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  97 

to  fall  about  us  like  a  deluge  of  feathers,  and 
after  we  had  been  walking  rapidly  for  an 
hour,  Balser  said  :  — 

"  I  surely  know  the  river  five  miles  above 
Raster's,  and  it  doesn't  look  familiar  to  me 
here.  I  do  believe  we  have  been  going  up- 
stream instead  of  down." 

I  didn't  know  which  direction  we  had 
taken.  I  was  so  confused  that  I  believe  I 
should  not  have  known  my  own  house  if  I 
had  been  standing  on  the  doorstep. 

"  Take  me  home,  Tige,"  said  I,  stooping 
and  patting  the  dog's  head,  "  and  never  let 
me  leave  it  again." 

Tige  struck  my  leg  with  his  tail  to  let  me 
know  he  was  wagging  it,  and  the  poor  dog 
seemed  to  say :  "  Don't  be  frightened,  Tom 
Andy  Bill.     We'll  get  home  by  and  by." 

We  stood  in  utter  confusion  for  a  while, 
and  Balser,  pointing  westward  —  as  we  sup- 
posed —  from  the  river,  said :  — 

"  I  believe  that  direction  is  west.  We  are 
on  the  west  side  of  some  stream,  for  we  came 
eastward  and  we  did  not  cross  a  river  or  a 
creek." 

The  reasoning  seemed  good,  and  we,  feel- 
ing   that  we  had  our  bearings   once  more, 


98  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

started  as  we  supposed  in  a  southwesterly 
direction  for  home.  Soon  after  we  started 
we  again  entered  the  deep  forest  and  were 
as  badly  lost  as  ever.  We,  however,  kept  on 
walking  to  keep  our  blood  circulating,  for 
while  the  weather  was  not  very  cold,  it  was 
raw,  and  what  little  wind  there  was  seemed 
to  penetrate  to  our  very  bones.  Although 
we  walked  rapidly,  we  could  not  keep  warm. 

We  were  moving  along  aimlessly  and  hope- 
lessly through  a  very  dark  portion  of  the  for- 
est when  a  large  black  animal  crossed  my 
path  not  one  foot  in  front  of  me,  and  took  with 
it  in  its  teeth  a  piece  of  my  half-rotten  buck- 
skin trousers.  It  was  a  wolf,  and  you  may  be 
sure  I  sprang  back  pretty  badly  frightened. 

"  He  will  go  and  tell  his  friends,"  said  Bal- 
ser,  "  and  they  will  come  and  take  revenge  on 
us  for  Solomon's  powder  keg." 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  when  we  heard 
the  barking  howl  of  wolves  coming  from  the 
direction  the  wolf  had  taken.  Wolves  are 
cowardly  beasts,  and  we  had  no  fear  of  two 
or  three,  but  a  hungry  pack  is  the  greatest 
danger  man  or  beast  can  encounter.  Espe- 
cially is  the  danger  great  at  night.  Judging 
by  the  noise  the  wolves  made,  we  would  have 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  99 

been  justified  in  believing  that  a  great  pack 
was  on  our  scent ;  but  we  also  knew  that  two 
or  three  wolves  could  exert  themselves  to 
make  as  much  noise  as  twenty.  That  is  a 
shrewd  trick  to  which  they  sometimes  resort 
for  the  purpose  of  terrifying  their  prey  and 
making  it  easier  to  capture. 

Balser  and  I,  with  the  dogs  close  at  our 
heels,  hurried  forward  as  fast  as  we  could 
travel,  though  our  haste  would  not  help  us 
against  the  wolves.  If  the  pack  were  a 
large  one,  they  would  soon  overtake  us.  If 
the  raw,  cold  night  air  chilled  our  blood,  the 
fear  of  the  wolves  chilled  our  very  bones  and 
gave  speed  to  our  heels. 

Thus  we  were  hurrying  along,  looking  con- 
stantly to  the  right  and  to  the  left  and  •  back 
of  us,  when  suddenly  Balser  stumbled  over 
an  obstruction  in  his  path  and  fell  forward 
on  his  face.  We  were  both  frightened,  but 
when  he  rose  to  his  feet,  he  stooped  and 
thrust  his  hand  under  the  snow  to  discover, 
if  possible,  the  cause  of  his  fall. 

44  By  George,  it's  a  bear ! "  he  cried, 
springing  back.  I,  too,  sprang  back.  We 
had  no  fight  left  in  us.  We  had  had  more 
than  enough  fighting  for  one  day. 


ioo  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

As  we  retreated,  we  expected  the  bear 
to  arise  up  and  make  its  presence  known, 
but  it  did  not.  I  was  watching  the  spot 
closely  and  was  not  paying  much  attention 
to  where  I  was  going,  so  I  moved  backward 
against  an  obstruction  of  some  sort,  and  fell 
over  it.  When  I  examined  my  stumbling- 
block,  I  found  that  it  was  another  bear. 

"  A  bear !  Another  bear !  "  I  cried, 
springing  to  my  feet  and  joining  Balser  in  a 
general  stampede  for  safety. 

"  Lord,  did  you  ever  hear  of  so  many 
bears  ?  "  wailed  Balser.  "  The  woods  fairly 
swarm  with  them.  Five  in  one  day;  and 
wolves!  Hear  them,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  hear 
them!  I  believe  I'm  going  crazy  —  fright- 
ened out  of  my  wits !  " 

After  a  minute  or  two  of  trembling  silence 
I  said:  — 

"  I'll  bet  those  are  logs  that  we  stumbled 
over." 

As  the  supposed  bears  did  not  move,  we 
laughed  nervously  and  went  cautiously  back 
to  them.  I  put  my  hand  on  the  one  Balser 
had  fallen  over,  but  I  sprang  away  very 
quickly,  crying,  "  It's  a  bear,  sure  enough !  " 
Then  I  went  to  the  one  I  had  stumbled  over. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  101 

I  sprang  away  from  it,  too,  with  the  exclama- 
tion, "A  bear!" 

I  quickly  joined  Balser  at  a  little  distance, 
and  we  waited  somewhat  anxiously  for  devel- 
opments. Presently  he  said,  laughing  ner- 
vously:— 

"Say,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  do  you  know 
where  we  are  ?  Those  bears  are  dead,  and 
this  is  where  we  had  our  fight  in  the  snow- 
drift." 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I,  sitting  down 
on  the  bear  nearest  to  me.  "  We  are  right 
back  to  the  place  we  started  from.  I  think 
the  spot  has  a  charm  to  hold  us.  Listen  to 
the  wolves.  I  do  believe  we'll  never  get 
away  from  here  alive,  Balser." 

The  howling  wolf  pack  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  our  hearts  sank  lower  and  lower. 
When  the  wolves  seemed  to  be  getting  too 
bold,  we  fired  our  guns  and  shouted  to 
frighten  them  off.  We  had  discharged  five 
or  six  loads  of  powder  when  we  heard,  as  if 
in  response  to  our  volley,  a  rolling  Indian 
warwhoop. 

"Great  Jupiter!     Indians!"   cried  Balser. 

"  I  prefer  Indians  to  wolves,"  said  I;  "let 
us  fire  again." 


102  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

I  loaded  my  gun  heavily  and  fired.  A 
rifle  does  not  make  a  loud  report,  but  we 
heard  an  answering  warwhoop  in  response 
to  my  shot.  We  shouted  at  intervals  of  ten 
or  twelve  seconds,  and  soon  we  saw  an 
Indian  approaching.     It  was  Wyandotte. 

"  Oh,  Wyandotte,"  cried  Balser,  going  to 
meet  him,  "we  are  glad  to  see  you.  We 
are  lost." 

"  Indian  know,"  answered  Wyandotte. 
"  This  way  home.  Hurry.  Heap  rain  by 
and  by."  ' 

Wyandotte  started  home,  and  we  gladly 
followed.  We  tried  to  make  the  Indian 
talk,  and  although  his  words  were  few,  we 
succeeded  in  learning  that  he  suspected  we 
were  lost  when  we  did  not  return  at  night- 
fall, and  started  out  to  find  us  and  to  lead 
us  home.  How  he  was  able  to  see  our 
tracks  in  the  dark  without  a  torch,  I  don't 
understand;  but  he  found  us  and  took  us 
home  straight  as  a  crow  would  fly. 

After  two  hours'  hard  walking  we  reached 
the  cabin  near  midnight.  The  snow  had 
turned  to  rain,  but  just  as  we  got  home  the 
wind  shifted  to  the  north  and  the  rain  turned 
to  sleet.     Had  not  our  silent  friend  found  us, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  103 

we  certainly  should  have  perished  that  night 
in  the  woods.  We  had  nursed  Wyandotte 
back  to  life,  and  he  had  repaid  us  in  the 
same  coin,  so  the  obligation,  much  to  our 
regret,  was  cancelled. 

We  were  welcomed  by  a  corn  song  from 
Solomon.  He  was  almost  famished,  and, 
of  course,  got  his  hay  and  corn  at  once. 
We,  too,  were  hungry  all  the  way  down  to 
our  toes,  and  our  first  task  was  to  prepare 
supper.  We  did  not  wait  for  potatoes  to 
bake,  but  made  a  great  cake  of  corn  pone, 
broiled  several  quails  and  two  rabbits,  and 
the  three  of  us  ate  them  all.  I  believe  we 
could  have  eaten  a  dozen  rabbits.  Wyan- 
dotte ate  a  quail  and  prepared  to  go  to  sleep. 
Before  he  turned  in,  he  said :  — 

"  You  help  Indian.  Indian  pay  back. 
Indian  go  away  to-night." 

We  asked  him  to  remain  and  help  us  bring 
home  the  bears  we  had  killed. 

"  If  you  will  stay,"  said  Balser,  "  Tom  Andy 
Bill  and  I  will  take  the  bearskins  and  the 
meat  down  to  Blue  River  and  sell  them. 
You  shall  have  all  we  get  for  them,  and  we 
will  buy  you  a  new  pair  of  shoes  and  a  new 
blanket." 


104  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

Wyandotte  shook  his  head.  He  would 
not  stay. 

"  We'll  get  you  a  hatchet,  too,"  said  I. 

No.     Wyandotte  must  be  going. 

"  We'll  give  you  shoes,  blanket,  hatchet, 
knife,  and  gun  if  you'll  stay  with  us  three 
days,"  said  Balser. 

"  Oh,  cheap  gun,"  said  Wyandotte,  con- 
temptuously. 

Balser  and  I  each  had  two  guns.  I  took 
down  one  of  mine;  it  was  a  good  English 
rifle. 

"  Is  this  gun  cheap  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Good  gun,"  answered  Wyandotte. 

"  We'll  give  it  to  you,"  I  said. 

"  Powder  ?      Bullets  ?  "  the  Indian  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Balser. 

"  How  much  powder  ?  "  asked  Wyandotte. 

"  A  big  horn  full,"  I  answered. 

A  big  horn  was  the  horn  of  an  ox;  a  small 
horn  was  that  of  a  cow. 

"  How  big  bullets  ?  "  asked  the  Indian, 
meaning  how  many. 

"  Two  hands,  two  feet ;  two  more  hands, 
two  more  feet,"  said  Balser,  meaning  forty. 

In  dealing  with  Indians,  calculations  were 
often  made  on  the  basis  of  the  number  of 


"'I  I  's  a   HK.AK,   StTUC   ENOUGH  ! 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  105 

fingers  and  toes  possessed  by  a  man.  The 
number  belonging  to  the  person  making  the 
offer  was  usually  recognized  as  the  standard. 
If  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  short  of  a  few 
toes  or  fingers,  the  advantage  in  the  trade  was 
with  him. 

"  Let  Indian  see  toes,"  said  Wyandotte, 
more  from  a  habit  of  caution  than  because  he 
suspected  us  of  a  desire  to  cheat  him.  Balser 
showed  him  five  toes  on  each  foot,  and  held 
out  his  fingers  for  inspection.  The  Indian, 
being  satisfied,  answered,  "  Stay  three  days." 

Then  he  lay  down  on  his  bed  of  hay. 
Balser  and  I  crept  into  our  sleeping-bags,  and 
being  very  tired,  were  soon  in  dreamland. 

Next  morning  Solomon's  corn  song 
awakened  us  from  a  sound  sleep.  We 
did  not  want  to  get  up,  but  having  a  big 
day's  work  ahead  of  us,  we  turned  out,  fed 
Solomon,  and  got  our  breakfast  in  a  great 
hurry.  We  made  a  hasty  visit  to  our  traps, 
returned  as  quickly  as  possible,  harnessed 
Solomon  to  the  sled,  and  started  with  Wyan- 
dotte to  fetch  the  dead  bears.  By  noon  we 
had  loaded  them  on  the  sled  and,  amid  vigor- 
ous protests  from  Solomon,  started  home. 
By  five  o'clock  that  evening  the  bears  were 


106  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

skinned,  and  the  edible  portion  of  the  meat 
was  hanging  safely  in  the  treetops.  On  the 
following  day  Balser  and  I  took  the  meat  and 
the  skins  to  the  town  of  Blue  River.  We  got 
Wyandotte's  blanket,  knife,  and  hatchet,  and 
had  five  shillings  left  to  pay  us  for  three  days' 
hard  work. 

We  slept  at  Balser's  home  that  night,  and 
started  next  morning  for  the  cabin  loaded 
with  eggs,  butter,  a  great  can  of  sweet  milk, 
and  enough  mince  pies  to  make  twenty  boys 
sick  for  a  month. 

Solomon,  with  his  accustomed  good  na- 
ture, seemed  glad  to  return  to  Brandywine, 
and  three  hours  after  sun-up  we  were  back  in 
our  cabin.  Balser's  mother  gave  us  a  bottle 
of  whiskey  with  wild  cherry  bark.  It  was 
considered  a  great  medicine  among  the 
settlers,  and  Mrs.  Brent  admonished  us  to 
take  a  little  whenever  we  got  our  feet  wet  or 
became  thoroughly  chilled.  I'll  tell  you 
more  about  the  whiskey  in  a  moment. 

When  we  reached  the  cabin  we  gave 
Wyandotte  his  blanket,  hatchet,  knife,  shoes, 
and  gun.  By  way  of  good  measure  we  also 
gave  him  three  pairs  of  woollen  socks,  but 
these     he     tossed     back     to     us,     saying, 


UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL  107 

"  Woman's  gear."  The  other  things  he 
accepted  stoically,  without  comment,  and 
placed  them  on  his  bed  next  the  wall. 

After  supper,  Balser,  having  no  thought 
of  Wyandotte,  took  the  whiskey  bottle  from 
his  pocket  and  placed  it  on  a  shelf.  I 
noticed  the  Indian's  eyes  glisten  for  a 
moment,  but  his  face  immediately  became 
expressionless,  and  I  thought  no  more  about 
the  glitter  in  his  eyes.  I  knew  that  all  Ind- 
ians have  a  great  love  for  intoxicants,  but  it 
did  not  occur  to  me  that  Wyandotte  would 
want  the  whiskey  until  I  happened  to  turn 
my  face  from  the  fire  and  saw  him  taking 
the  bottle  down  from  the  shelf. 

"  Put  that  back !  "  I  said,  rising  and  going 
toward  him.  He  held  his  hatchet  in  his  hand 
and  lifted  it  threateningly  above  my  head. 

"  Ugh  !  "  he  grunted,  "  sit  down  !  " 

I  sat  down.  Balser  arose  to  remonstrate 
with  our  guest,  for  a  drunken  Indian  usually 
is  a  fiend  incarnate ;  but  Wyandotte  again 
lifted  his  hatchet  and  Balser  sat  down. 

The  Indian  drained  the  bottle  without 
taking  it  from  his  lips  —  fortunately  it  was 
not  a  large  one — and  came  around  in  front 
of  the  fire,  where  he  sat  down  upon  the  floor. 


108  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

In  a  few  minutes  Wyandotte  the  Silent,  as 
we  often  called  him,  began  to  chant  in  a  low 
minor  key.  The  words  of  his  song  were 
Indian,  but  frequently  we  caught  the  name 
"  Wyandotte."  The  magic  word  always 
aroused  our  interest,  for  if  the  Indian  had 
spoken  the  truth  during  his  delirium,  the 
gold  was  hidden  at  or  in  some  place  bearing 
that  name. 

We  longed  to  know  where  Wyandotte 
was  situated.  We  constantly  discussed  the 
subject  when  alone,  and  I  believe  we  thought 
of  nothing  else.  Therefore,  when  the  Indian 
began  to  chant,  we  listened  attentively,  and 
soon  Wyandotte  the  Silent  became  Wyan- 
dotte the  Talkative.  Under  the  influence  of 
whiskey  most  Indians  grow  morose  and  sul- 
len, but  this  one  became  cheerful  and  happy. 
His  good  humor  grew  apace,  and  presently 
I  said:  — 

"  Tell  us  about  Wyandotte." 

I'll  not  attempt  to  give  you  the  language 
in  which  he  spoke,  but  I'll  try  to  give  you 
the  story  in  my  own  way,  perhaps  with  a 
touch  here  and  there  of  his  figurative  manner 
of  speech. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    STORY    OF    BLUE    VIOLET 

The  Indian  remained  silent  for  a  few 
minutes,  gazing  into  the  fire,  then  began :  — 

Wyandotte  is  the  name  of  a  small  tribe  of 
good  Indians  that  used  to  live  far,  far  from 
here,  on  the  banks  of  a  great  river.  They 
are  all  gone  now,  and  are  scattered  like  the 
leaves  of  autumn.  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  is  a 
great  Indian  god  who  loved  his  people  as 
the  eagle  loves  its  young.  Wyandotte  is  his 
home.  It  is  a  great  cave  —  one  moon,  two 
moon,  three  moon  journey  from  here. 

Great  hills  surround  the  cave,  and  wolves 
whose  numbers  are  as  the  pebbles  of  the 
river  guard  its  door.  Two  devils  with  fiery 
breath  stand  inside  the  doorway  to  consume 
any  one  unlawfully  trying  to  enter;  but  if 
one  who  has  no  good  right  to  enter  should 
succeed  in  passing  beyond  the  portals  of  the 
cave,  death  would  overtake  him   before  he 

109 


no  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

could  return  to  the  sunlight.  There  are 
many  rooms  and  passageways,  and  one  who 
does  not  know  the  key  to  the  labyrinth  of 
the  cave  would  be  lost  in  the  recesses  of  its 
stony  heart  and  would  perish  miserably. 
Hanging  from  the  roof  of  the  cave  and 
springing  from  its  floor  are  white  devils, 
some  of  them  two,  four,  ten  times  bigger 
than  a  man,  and  these  devils  laugh  at  those 
who  are  lost  in  their  midst  and  drive  them 
mad. 

Many,  many  moons  ago  —  so  many  that 
their  number  is  like  the  trees  of  a  great 
forest,  aye,  like  the  leaves  of  the  trees  in 
spring  —  there  lived  not  far  from  this  mar- 
vellous cave  a  tribe  of  Indians  calling  them- 
selves Wyandottes.  For  many  years  they 
did  not  know  of  the  cave,  for  it  was  hidden 
amidst  bare  and  rocky  hills,  and  they  did  not 
climb  those  hills  because  their  god,  Wyan- 
dotte Wyolyo,  lived  among  them,  and  the 
place  of  his  home  was  sacred  to  them. 

Long,  long  ago,  one  spring  when  the  deer 
were  bringing  forth  their  young,  and  the 
leaves  of  the  forest  were  bursting  into  bud, 
a  tribe  of  people  whose  faces  bore  the  color 
of  the  white,  poor  ground   whereon  maize 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  in 

will  not  grow,  came  down  the  great  river  on 
which  the  Wyandottes  lived,  built  their 
houses,  and  planted  their  crops  on  the  rich 
black  ground  near  the  river's  bank. 

Summers  came  and  went,  and  the  white- 
faced  tribe  swarmed  into  the  home  of  the 
Wyandottes  always  with  increasing  numbers. 
The  new  tribe  stole  from  the  Wyandottes 
their  richest  ground,  whereon  to  grow  their 
own  maize  and  tobacco.  If  the  Wyandottes 
complained,  the  whites  fell  upon  them  and 
beat  them,  and  killed  them  with  magic  rods 
that  breathed  forth  fire  and  death.  The 
white  tribe  stole  not  only  the  home  of  the 
Wyandottes  and  the  rich  fields  their  fathers 
had  cultivated,  but  the  new  people  killed  the 
game  of  the  forest  and  what  they  did  not 
kill  they  drove  from  the  land  with  the  thun- 
der of  their  arms. 

Of  all  the  peoples  of  the  earth,  the  Wyan- 
dotte maidens  were  the  most  beautiful. 
Their  great  eyes  were  as  tender  as  the 
mother  doe's,  and  sparkled  like  the  stars  in 
the  blue-black  sky  on  a  moonless  night. 
Their  faces  were  like  the  fair  full  moon,  and 
to  look  upon  them  brought  joy  to  their  hus- 
bands in  time  of  trouble.     Their  natures  were 


ii2  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

like  the  balmy  spring,  and  their  breath  was 
like  the  south  wind,  sighing  through  the 
forest  when  the  sweet  haw  blooms.  The 
Great  Father  loved  the  Wyandottes,  and  he 
said  in  the  beginning :  — 

"  I  will  give  to  this  tribe  the  most  beauti- 
ful maidens  of  all  the  earth,  to  make  glad 
and  strong  the  hearts  of  the  braves." 

I  was  of  that  tribe,  and  my  heart  is  sore 
for  the  sake  of  my  scattered  people. 

When  the  men  of  the  white  tribe  saw  our 
beautiful  maidens,  they  coveted  them  and 
coaxed  them  from  us.  When  the  maidens 
could  not  be  coaxed,  the  white  men  stole 
them,  kept  them  for  a  time,  and  killed  them 
with  hardship  and  blows. 

Once  upon  a  time,  so  many  summers  ago 
that  I  have  lost  the  count,  there  lived  among 
the  Wyandottes  a  young  man  who  was  called 
by  his  friends  "Monyomo,"  which  means  in 
the  language  of  the  whites,  "  The  Big  Man 
who  Talks  Little."  Monyomo,  when  still 
young,  was  a  brave  hunter.  He  feared 
neither  man  nor  beast,  loved  his  god,  was  a 
true  son  to  his  father,  and  gave  to  each  man 
his  due,  whether  it  were  of  good  or  evil.  I 
will  not  speak  of  his  virtues,  for  the  man  who 


"Ill     WW  III.    NONE   SAVE   A    LITTLE   MAIDEN    NAMED   '  IONVVAH '" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  113 

sings  the  song  of  his  own  praise  will  find  that 
none  but  fools  take  up  the  refrain.  I  was 
Monyomo,  but  Monyomo  died  of  grief,  and 
now  Wyandotte  lives  in  his  place. 

When  Monyomo  grew  to  manhood,  his 
friends  told  him  to  take  a  wife,  for,  said  they, 
"a  wife  is  to  a  man  what  the  sun  and  the 
rains  of  spring  are  to  the  maize."  But 
among  all  the  beautiful  Wyandotte  maidens 
there  was  none  he  wanted  save  a  little 
maiden  of  tender  years  named  "  Ionwah," 
which  means  "  Blue  Violet."  She  was  too 
young  to  be  a  wife,  but  Monyomo  looked 
upon  her  and  loved  her,  and  said  he  would 
wait. 

One  cold  winter,  when  the  earth  was  white 
and  the  trees  were  black,  the  old  chief  of  the 
Wyandottes  died,  and  Monyomo  was  chosen 
to  rule  the  tribe.  Then  he  took  Blue  Violet 
to  his  wigwam  that  she  might  grow  up  to 
love  him  and  be  his  wife  when  the  cloak  of 
womanhood  should  fall  upon  her. 

In  those  times  the  hearts  of  the  Wyan- 
dottes were  sad,  for  the  white  people  con- 
tinued to  pour  in  upon  their  hunting-ground 
and  were  growing  more  insolent  and  more 
oppressive  year   by  year.     Often   we   coun- 


ii4  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

selled  together  to  learn  from  our  wise  men 
a  plan  whereby  we  might  stem  the  swift 
torrent  of  destruction  that  was  rushing  down 
upon  our  people.  The  young  men  desired 
war ;  but  the  old  men  said  to  wait  the  wait  of 
a  just  cause,  and  that  Wyandotte  Wyolyo, 
the  god  of  our  tribe,  would  bring  us  help  all 
in  his  own  good  time. 

My  heart  longed  for  war,  but  my  head 
told  me  that  this  terrible  tribe  that  had  come 
upon  us  like  a  cloud  of  locusts  to  steal  our 
homes,  would  gladly  rob  us  of  our  lives,  and 
would  take  our  young  women  to  work  for 
them  as  slaves. 

Monyomo  cared  not  for  his  life,  though 
the  future  was  rosy  with  the  hue  of  a  spring 
sunrise,  and  he  wanted  to  live  to  hold  Blue 
Violet  to  his  heart  as  wife,  and  to  see  his 
child  upon  her  breast.  He  had  not  suffered 
from  the  depredations  of  the  whites  save 
in  the  suffering  of  his  tribe.  Many  of  those 
who  spoke  for  war  had  been  maimed  and 
beaten  by  the  whites.  Others  had  lost  their 
sweethearts,  wives,  and  children.  All  such 
longed  for  war,  and  were  glad  to  welcome 
death  for  the  sake  of  a  just  revenge. 

It  is  much  easier  for  a  man  to  be  wise  and 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  115 

prudent  in  the  face  of  injury  to  others  than 
it  is  to  think  twice  if  he  himself  has  been 
wronged.  Monyomo  had  not  felt  the  hand 
of  the  white  man ;  therefore,  he,  as  chief, 
found  it  easy  to  decide  with  the  old  men,  and 
the  tribe  did  not  then  go  to  war. 

Two  springs,  two  summers,  and  two  win- 
ters came  and  passed  like  the  flight  of  a  bird 
over  our  heads.  The  third  spring  had  sent 
its  welcome  messengers  of  wild  flowers,  and 
the  leaves  of  the  trees  were  eager  to  drink 
the  sun. 

The  rarest  flower  to  bloom  that  spring 
was  Blue  Violet,  and  Monyomo  told  his 
tribe  that  he  would  pluck  the  beautiful 
blossom  at  the  next  new  moon,  and  would 
wear  it  on  his  heart. 

Upon  the  day  before  the  sharp-horned 
moon  was  due,  Monyomo  went  forth  to  kill 
a  deer  for  his  wedding  feast.  It  was  a  bright, 
warm  day,  such  as  gladdens  the  hearts  of 
the  wild  flowers ;  but  it  was  the  blackest  day 
of  Monyomo's  life. 

Before  the  sun  had  started  down  the  hill 
of  the  sky,  Monyomo  had  killed  a  rare,  fat 
buck  and,  with  his  trophy  over  his  shoulders, 
hurried   home   to   lay  it  at  the   feet  of  the 


n6  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

maiden  who,  next  day,  would  be  his  bride. 
He  had  left  Blue  Violet  drinking  in  the 
warm  sun  with  the  other  wild  flowers,  but 
when  he  returned  his  friends  met  him,  say- 
ing:— 

"  Make  strong  your  heart,  Monyomo,  or 
grief  will  crush  it !  " 

Where  a  man  loves,  there  will  his  heart 
fly  as  a  mother  bird  turns  ever  toward  her 
nestlings ;  so  my  thoughts  at  once  turned  to 
Blue  Violet. 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  "  I  asked. 

■  Worse,  friend,  worse,"  answered  my 
people,  fearing  to  look  me  in  the  face. 

"  Is  she  dead  ?  Life  of  my  life,  is  she 
dead  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Worse,  friend,  worse,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Ah,  the  whites !  "  I  cried,  and  my  head 
hung  in  anguish. 

"  Yes,"  answered  my  friends.  "  Five  white 
men  rode  into  our  village  when  all  our 
young  braves  were  away.  One  of  the  white 
tribe  saw  Blue  Violet  and  tried  to  coax  her 
to  go  with  him.  She  refused.  Then  he 
took  her  in  his  arms,  placed  her  before  him 
on  his  horse,  and  rode  away  with  her." 

The  weight  of  the  white  man's  hand  had 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  117 

fallen  upon  me,  and  I  knew  why  so  many 
of  our  men  had  counselled  for  war.  The 
deer  I  was  carrying  fell  to  the  ground.  I 
turned  my  back  upon  my  wigwam  and  went 
out  among  the  hills  of  Wyandotte  Wyolyo 
to  be  alone  with  my  sorrow  and  my  god. 
I  climbed  the  rocky  steeps  until  nightfall ; 
then  I  shouted  aloud  to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo 
and  told  him  of  my  grief.  When  I  had 
spoken,  a  great  black  cloud  came  upon  the 
sky  before  me,  and  on  the  cloud,  fire  from 
heaven  burned  the  figure  of  a  blood-red 
tomahawk.  Soon  Wyandotte  Wyolyo,  the 
god,  spoke  in  tones  of  rolling  thunder :  — 

"  Go  back  to  your  village,  Monyomo,  and 
gather  your  braves.  On  the  morrow's  night, 
when  the  new  moon  has  gone  to  rest  with 
the  sleeping  sun,  march  upon  the  white 
tribe.  Burn  and  kill !  Burn  and  kill ! 
Spare  not !  That  which  the  people  of  this 
accursed  race  has  done  to  you,  do  you  even 
so  to  them,  a  thousand  fold.  An  honest 
man  pays  his  just  debts,  and  the  debt  of  a 
righteous  vengeance  must  be  paid  by  every 
brave  man  that  owes  it.  When  you  have 
killed  the  whites  and  burned  their  houses, 
take  the  maiden,  Blue  Violet.     Bring  her  to 


u8  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

me  and  leave  her  on  the  stone  whereon  you 
are  now  standing.  She  shall  be  your  sacri- 
fice to  me.  She  is  the  price  I  ask  for 
giving  you  revenge.  Do  you  promise  that 
sacrifice  ? " 

Monyomo  sadly  gave  his  promise  to  the 
god  and  hurried  back  to  the  tribe.  Word 
was  passed  among  the  warriors,  and  the  next 
day  was  spent  in  sharpening  knives  and 
tomahawks.  The  sun  seemed  to  stand  still 
in  the  sky,  so  slowly  did  it  drag  its  weary 
way  across  the  blue,  and  when  it  had  sunk, 
the  new  moon  hung  like  a  taunting  laggard 
in  the  blackened  west.  That  night  was  to 
have  been  my  wedding  feast,  but  in  its  place 
there  would  be  a  wedding  of  death,  and  my 
tomahawk  should  be  the  high  priest. 

After  a  weary  time  of  waiting  the  moon 
sank  into  the  arms  of  the  sun,  and  darkness 
fell  upon  the  river  and  the  hills.  Monyomo 
and  his  braves  started  silently  for  the  village 
of  the  whites.  By  midnight  they  were  upon 
it.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  So  silently 
did  the  Wyandottes  do  their  work  that  even 
the  watch  dogs  were  not  aroused.  Dark, 
noiseless  figures  glided  here  and  there  and 
everywhere  among  the  houses,  and  quick  as 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  119 

an  eagle  pounces  upon  its  prey,  half  the 
wigwams  in  the  white  village  were  in  flames. 

Monyomo  had  said  to  his  men :  "  Kill  and 
kill,  but  spare  the  women  and  watch  for 
Blue  Violet." 

Soon  the  white  men  began  to  run  from 
their  houses,  but  they  all  met  death.  They 
fell  before  the  just  vengeance  of  the  Wyan- 
dottes,  as  the  corn  falls  before  the  corn  knife. 
Monyomo  ran  from  house  to  house,  calling, 
"Blue  Violet,  Blue  Violet,  Blue  Violet!" 
When  he  had  almost  despaired  of  finding 
her,  she  answered  and  ran,  laughing  and 
weeping,  to  his  arms.  But  he  did  not  take 
her  to  his  heart.  He  said :  "  You  are  not 
for  me.  I  will  tell  you  when  we  go  back  to 
the  hills." 

Of  that  night's  work  I  love  to  speak. 

"  There  is  the  man  who  stole  me,"  cried 
Blue  Violet,  pointing  to  a  white  man  just 
emerging  from  a  door.  I  sprang  upon  him 
as  a  wildcat  springs  upon  its  prey.  I  dis- 
dained my  tomahawk  and  did  not  touch  my 
knife.  I  clutched  his  throat  and  killed  him 
with  these  hands. 

No  woman  or  child  perished  by  act  of  ours, 
but  every  man  of  the  white  village  died  that 


120  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

night  and  was  left  for  the  carrion  crows. 
When  our  task  was  finished,  we  hurried 
back  to  the  hills  and  prepared  for  war.  We 
knew  that  the  whites  would  come  from  far 
and  near  to  wage  the  war  of  extermination 
against  our  tribe,  so  we  counselled  among 
ourselves  to  learn,  if  possible,  what  was  best 
to  do. 

First  of  all,  it  was  our  duty  to  offer  Blue 
Violet  as  a  sacrifice  to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo. 
I  loved  my  god,  but  my  heart  was  as  heavy 
as  a  black  stone  at  the  thought  of  losing  my 
bride.  The  morning  after  the  battle  I  did 
not  go  near  her.  I  was  sick  with  grief,  and 
was  not  brave  enough  to  tell  her  the  truth. 
I  could  endure  my  own  pain  much  easier 
than  I  could  bear  her  sufferings.  Presently 
she  came  to  me  and  said :  — 

"  Will  you  not  take  your  bride,  Monyomo  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,  I  cannot !  "  I  answered,  turning 
my  face  from  her. 

"  Why  can  you  not  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  is 
my  right  to  know,  for  it  was  not  of  my  will 
that  I  was  stolen  by  the  whites." 

"  It  is  not  because  you  were  stolen  by  the 
whites,  Blue  Violet,  that  I  do  not  take  you 
for  my  wife.     You  are  still  to  me  what  the 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  121 

pure  violet  of  spring  is  to  the  sun,  what  the 
sweetbrier  blossom  is  to  the  sighing  wind. 
I  would  gladly  give  all  I  have  in  the  world, 
my  life,  my  heart,  to  call  you  wife;  but  the 
god,  Wyandotte  Wyolyo,  demands  you,  a 
sacrifice,  as  the  price  of  your  rescue  and  our 
vengeance." 

Tears  came  to  her  eyes,  and  she  said :  — 
"  But  I  am  here,  and  our  people  have  had 
their  revenge.  We  need  not  pay  the  debt 
to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo.  He  can  but  kill  us. 
I  do  not  fear  death,  it  is  but  a  dreamless 
sleep  beneath  the  flowers  in  spring  and  the 
snows  in  winter ;  but  I  do  want  you  for  my 
husband,  and  I  am  unhappy  that  you,  who 
have  waited  so  long  and  patiently  for  me, 
should  forego  the  happiness  your  life  has 
earned.  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  will  not  know, 
nor  will  he  care.  Keep  me  for  your  own, 
Monyomo.  The  god  will  forget  your  prom- 
ise, and  the  sun  will  shine  once  more  for 
you  and  for  me." 

It  hurt  my  ears  to  hear  her  entreaties,  but 
with  nimble  tongue  she  spoke  from  an  over- 
flowing heart  and  almost  tempted  me  to 
break  my  word  with  the  god  who  had  given 
us  our  vengeance.     She  drew  me  to  her  side 


122  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

and  painted  the  picture  of  the  future  with 
such  sweet  grace  that  it  took  all  my  man- 
hood to  resist  entering  into  the  heaven  of 
her  love.  But  my  manhood  came  to  my 
help,  and  I  left  her  weeping. 

That  evening  I  led  her  to  the  barren  hills 
and  left  her  amid  their  desolation,  standing 
on  the  spot  whereon  I  had  stood  before  the 
god. 

We  rested  for  a  week,  but  we  knew  that 
trouble  was  ahead.  From  time  to  time  our 
scouts  brought  in  news  that  the  white  tribe 
was  gathering  a  great  army  of  men,  armed 
with  small  guns  and  with  great  guns  on 
wheels,  and  that  they  were  coming  to  wipe 
our  tribe  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  as  a  war- 
rior wipes  the  war  paint  from  his  forehead 
after  battle.  We  watched  and  waited  for 
their  approach. 

Another  sharp-horned  moon  had  come  and 
the  Wyandottes  had  begun  to  hope  that  the 
whites  would  not  molest  them  ;  but  one  day, 
as  the  sun  was  sinking,  our  scouts  came 
running  to  tell  us  that  the  white  man's  army 
was  but  two  hours  distant. 

We  called  a  council  of  the  wise  men  and 
the  braves  to  determine  what  we  should  do. 


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"I    I.ED    HER    TO    THE    BARREN    HILLS    AND    I  LIT    lll.K" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  123 

Our  scouts  said  the  white  man's  army  out- 
numbered the  Wyandottes  as  the  leaves  of 
a  tree  outnumber  the  fruit.  I  and  our 
warriors  wanted  to  fight  and  die;  but  the 
wise  men  said  we  must  consider  the  women, 
the  children,  and  the  aged. 

They  said :  "  The  white  man  will  have  no 
mercy  on  these,  and  though  death  is  sweet 
when  it  comes  to  a  brave  man  fighting  in  a 
cause  he  loves,  it  is  terrible  to  those  who 
cannot  resist,  but  must  die  while  the  blood  is 
cold  in  fear.  These  white  men  will  kill  our 
women,  children,  aged  and  feeble  ones,  and 
will  carry  our  young  women  into  a  captivity 
worse  than  death.  We  must  not  fight.  We 
will  escape  to  the  hills ;  and  thence  we  may 
be  able  to  travel  toward  the  setting  sun, 
where  the  curse  of  the  white  man's  shadow 
has  not  fallen." 

That  night  we  left  our  wigwams  and 
started  for  the  hills  of  Wyandotte  Wyolyo, 
hoping  that  the  god  that  had  given  us  ven- 
geance would  lead  us  from  under  the  yoke. 
When  we  reached  the  top  of  the  first  foot- 
hill, we  could  see  the  white  man's  army 
swarming  in  our  deserted  village.  We  saw 
the  flames  of  our  wigwams,  and  as  the  shad- 


i24  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

ows  of  night  were  about  to  fall,  we  saw  the 
white  men  hurrying  toward  us  in  pursuit. 
But  the  white  man  is  lazy  and  will  not  work 
at  night.  Soon  after  dark  we  saw  their 
campfires,  and  then  we  sent  back  scouts  to 
watch  their  camp. 

The  road  ahead  of  us  was  unknown  to  any 
of  our  tribe,  for  the  hills  were  sacred  to  our 
god,  and  we  had  never  trespassed  upon  them. 
In  the  darkness  of  the  night  we  rested ;  but 
before  the  east  was  pink  we  rose  with  the 
gray  dawn,  and  again  took  up  our  journey  to 
our  god  in  the  hope  that  he  would  help  us 
in  the  time  of  our  dire  need. 

Hardly  had  we  started  when  we  saw  the 
enemy  in  pursuit.  The  white  men  were  all 
young  and  active.  Our  braves  were  active, 
too,  and  they  might  easily  have  escaped ;  but 
our  women,  children,  and  old  men  moved 
slowly,  and  there  was  no  thought  in  our 
hearts  of  deserting  them. 

By  noon  the  white  men  were  so  close  upon 
us  that  their  bullets  almost  reached  our 
braves  who  were  guarding  the  rear.  The 
whites  would  be  upon  us  in  less  than  half  of 
half  an  hour.  I  saw  no  hope,  and  in  desper- 
ation prepared  to  die  righting.     Our  people 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  125 

numbered  less  than  ten  score  souls.  The 
work  the  whites  had  begun  a  few  years  before 
would  soon  be  finished,  and  our  tribe  would 
be  like  the  sunlight  of  yesterday. 

To  continue  our  flight  was  hopeless.  We 
could  die  where  we  were  quite  as  well  as 
farther  on.     Therefore  I  said :  — 

"  My  people,  we  will  ascend  this  hill,  pass 
to  the  other  side,  and  stop  at  the  spot  where 
Wyandotte  Wyolyo  gave  me  his  promise  of 
vengeance.  There  the  rocks  will  give  us 
some  protection,  and  there  our  god  may  hear 
our  cry  for  help.  If  he  does  not  hear  us,  we 
will  offer  our  blood  as  a  sacrifice  to  him,  and 
he  will  avenge  our  wrongs." 

Before  us  was  a  high  hill,  shaped  like  the 
half  of  an  egg.  When  we  reached  the  top, 
the  white  men  were  at  the  foot,  shouting  and 
triumphant,  thirsting  for  our  blood  and  con- 
fident of  getting  it.  The  Wyandottes  hur- 
ried down  the  north  side  of  the  hill,  and 
when  they  were  halfway  toward  the  foot,  I 
recognized  the  spot  whereon  I  had  left  Blue 
Violet  a  month  before,  a  sacrifice  to  our  god. 
I  shouted  to  my  people  to  stop,  and  then 
I  called  to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  for  help.  I 
had   called   thrice  when   the   answer  came. 


126  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

By  my  side  grew  a  great  flowering  bush  that 
sprang  from  the  hard  rock  as  good  some- 
times comes  from  evil,  and  from  the  bush 
came  Blue  Violet.  I  took  her  to  my  arms, 
and  said :  — 

"  The  white  men  are  upon  us.  Their 
numbers  are  as  the  stars  on  a  clear  night. 
Ask  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  to  help  us  or  we 
are  lost!" 

She  turned  quickly  to  the  flowering  bush, 
drew  it  to  one  side,  and  said :  — 

"  Enter  here." 

I  looked,  and  there  I  beheld,  opening  into 
the  rock,  a  doorway  large  enough  for  three 
stooping  men  to  enter  at  the  same  time.  I 
lost  not  one  moment,  but  immediately  or- 
dered my  people  to  enter  this  refuge  the  god 
had  offered  us.  The  women,  children,  and 
the  aged  ones  were  the  first  to  enter  the  home 
of  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  ;  then  the  young  men 
followed,  and  the  last  to  go  was  Monyomo. 
He  lingered,  hidden  by  the  flowering  bush, 
to  watch  the  white  men.  He  had  not  long 
to  wait,  for  hardly  had  the  last  of  the  Wyan- 
dottes  entered  the  home  of  their  god  when 
the  white  men  came  swarming  to  the  crest 
of  the  hill  like  wolves  in  pursuit  of  a  doe. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  127 

They  were  shouting  in  triumph,  and  were 
ready  with  their  guns  to  send  death  upon 
the  Indians,  whom  they  expected  to  see  on 
the  open  ground  below  them.  They  paused 
for  a  moment  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and 
then  rushed  down  among  the  rocks,  expect- 
ing there  to  find  us  hiding  like  foxes.  Half- 
way down  the  hill  they  halted  by  the  flowering 
bush,  and  cursed  and  growled  like  wolves 
disappointed  of  their  prey.  I  watched  from 
behind  the  flowering  bush  and  I  felt  that 
my  people  were  safe.  Had  not  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo  made  for  us  a  refuge  in  the  heart  of 
the  rock  ?  Had  he  not  given  us  life  at  the 
hands  of  the  sacrifice  we  had  made  to  him  ? 

All  day  the  whites  sought  us  among  the 
rocks ;  but  when  evening  approached  they 
marched  back  over  the  hills,  and  I,  hiding  be- 
hind the  rocks,  watched  them  until  they  were 
lost  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  Then  I 
entered  into  the  heart  of  the  rock  where  my 
people  were  hiding,  to  cheer  them  with  the 
news  that  our  enemy  had  left  us  with  our 
god. 

I  found  the  Wyandottes  sitting  hand  in 
hand  in  a  great  vaulted  chamber.  Surely  no 
one  could  doubt  that  it  was  the  handiwork 


128  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

of  our  god.  In  it  there  was  room  for  all  and 
for  many  more.  I  did  not  see  all  the  chamber 
when  first  I  entered,  but  when  I  told  my 
people  that  the  white  men  had  departed,  our 
braves  crept  out  through  the  flowering  bush 
to  gather  wood,  and  we  kindled  a  fire. 
Then  all  the  marvels  of  this  wondrous  home 
of  our  wondrous  god  were  shown  to  our  eyes. 

I  asked  for  Blue  Violet.  I  was  sitting  by 
the  fire,  and  soon  she  knelt  by  my  side.  She 
placed  her  arms  about  my  neck,  saying :  — 

"  My  Monyomo,  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  has 
given  me  back  to  you,  but  Blue  Violet  is  dying 
for  food.  She  has  eaten  only  a  handful  of 
roots  and  a  few  berries  since  you  left  her  here, 
a  sacrifice  to  the  god  of  our  people.  She  stood 
until  nightfall  where  you  left  her,  but  Wyan- 
dotte Wyolyo  did  not  come.  She  was  tired 
and  cold,  and  when  a  bird  flew  from  the 
flowering  bush,  she  thought  to  find  a  poor 
shelter  under  the  branches  and  the  leaves, 
but  when  she  stooped  to  lie  down  beneath  the 
bush,  the  god  made  an  opening  in  the  rock  for 
his  bride,  and  she  entered.  Here  she  waited, 
faithful  to  your  command,  for  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo  to  come  and  take  her ;  but  he  did  not 
come,  and  now  he  has  returned  her  to  you, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  129 

Monyomo,  and  she  will  never  leave  you 
again." 

Her  cheeks,  once  so  round  and  red,  were 
sunken  and  gray.  Her  great  eyes,  once  so 
soft  and  brown,  were  dim,  and  her  breath 
came  fitfully.  My  Blue  Violet  had  faded 
while  dutifully  waiting  for  her  god  to  take 
her,  that  she  might  save  her  tribe. 

I  was  up  before  the  sun  next  morning,  and 
Wyandotte  Wyolyo  giving  me  good  fortune, 
I  soon  killed  a  doe  and  took  it  to  Blue  Violet 
and  my  people.  Blue  Violet  ate  sparingly  of 
the  meat,  and  then  she  sat  beside  me  with 
her  head  upon  my  breast.  Thus  we  sat  for 
hours  in  sweet  silence.  I  thought  she  slept, 
but  after  a  time  her  thin  hand  grew  cold,  and 
I  knew  she  slept  the  sleep  of  death.  We 
buried  her  among  the  rocks  of  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo's  home  ;  and,  saving  Balserbrent  and 
Tomandybilladdison,  who  have  been  kind  to 
me,  I  hate  every  white  man  that  breathes  the 
breath  of  life ! 

While  I  was  watching  the  white  men,  Blue 
Violet  had  shown  my  people  an  opening  to 
an  inner  cave.  The  opening  was  so  small 
that  two  persons  could  not  pass  through 
together,  and  a  very  large  man  would  find 


i3o  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

difficulty  in  entering  at  all.  The  opening 
was  so  cunningly  concealed  by  rocks  that 
one  in  the  first  cavern  might  easily  fail  to 
find  it.  This  second  doorway  in  the  rock  led 
to  the  real  home  of  the  god,  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo. 

In  it  are  beautiful  chambers,  as  many  as 
the  fishes  in  the  river.  One  must  learn  their 
winding  ways  if  he  would  walk  through  them, 
or  he  will  perish  in  the  heart  of  the  rocks. 
In  the  chambers  and  halls  of  this  great  cave 
are  the  white  devils  that  guard  the  home  of 
the  god ;  but  the  god  turned  them  to  rock  for 
the  sake  of  his  people,  and  drove  the  wolves 
from  the  door  that  we  might  find  refuge  from 
the  whites. 

The  Wyandottes  lived  in  the  home  of  their 
god  for  many  moons,  but  the  white  men 
sought  our  lives,  and  one  by  one  our  braves 
were  killed  while  seeking  food  for  the  old 
people,  the  children,  and  the  squaws.  We 
lived  like  hunted  wild  beasts,  and  were  al- 
ways in  the  shadow  of  death.  Our  life  was 
half  death  for  want  of  food,  but  at  times  we 
were  able  to  take  from  the  white  men  a  poor 
mouthful. 

One  day  our  braves  brought  in  three  white 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  131 

men  whom  they  had  captured.  The  white 
men  all  died  that  night. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  the  white 
men  had  been  captured  was  a  wagon  that  had 
belonged  to  them.  We  hoped  to  find  food 
in  the  wagon,  but  we  found  nothing  save 
fine  silks,  rich  cloths,  and  five  small  chests, 
which  we  carried  to  the  cave.  In  these 
chests  was  gold  —  the  white  man's  god.  For 
it  he  will  give  his  blood,  his  life,  his  honor. 
It  was  worthless  to  us.  We  could  not  eat  it 
and  we  dared  not  go  among  the  whites  to 
use  it  in  buying  food. 

Our  people  were  starving,  and  one  by  one 
they  died,  until  there  were  left  out  of  the  ten 
score  souls  barely  four  score.  These  left  the 
cave  by  ones  and  twos,  and  a  day  dawned 
when  Monyomo  sat  alone  in  the  home  of  his 
god  and  begged  for  death. 

But  death  is  a  blessing  that  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo  sends  to  man  only  when  he  has 
earned  it.  Monyomo  had  not  earned  his 
black  crown,  so  he  left  the  cave,  kissed  the 
rock  under  which  Blue  Violet  lay,  and  ever 
since  that  day  has  been  a  wanderer  upon  the 
face  of  this  hard,  cruel  earth. 

From  you,  Tomandybilladdison,  and  from 


i32  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

you,  Balserbrent,  I  have  had  the  first  kind- 
ness that  has  ever  come  to  me  by  the  hand 
of  a  white  man.  I  and  my  people  are  to  the 
white  people  what  the  doe  is  to  the  wolf. 
May  the  God  of  your  people  and  the  god  of 
my  people  judge  between  us.     I  have  said. 


Wyandotte  wound  his  blanket  about  him, 
took  his  gun,  knife,  and  hatchet,  and  started 
for  the  door.  We  begged  him  to  remain,  and 
offered  him  our  hut  for  a  home,  but  he  shook 
his  head.  While  he  was  standing  in  the 
door,  I  said :  — 

"  Tell  us  where  the  cave  is,  Wyandotte." 

He  turned  quickly  upon  us  with  a  glare  of 
anger,  and  said :  — 

"  I  wondered  if  good  for  the  sake  of  good 
could  come  from  a  white  man's  heart.  You 
have  been  kind  to  me  because  you  hoped  to 
find  the  gold.     Hope  no  more." 

"  We  knew  nothing  of  the  gold  when  we 
took  you  in  and  cared  for  you,  and  nursed 
you  back  to  life,"  said  Balser. 

His  face  seemed  to  soften,  and  he  answered, 
"  True."  Then  he  went  out  into  the  dark- 
ness and  we  saw  him  no  more. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   FLOOD    AND   THE    MOTHER    BEAR 

Let  a  hint  of  hidden  treasure  once  get 
into  a  boy's  head  (said  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill  next  evening,  when  we  were  all  settled 
cozily  about  the  fire)  and  everything  else 
gets  out.  There  is  a  fascination  about  it 
that  no  boy  can  resist,  and,  in  my  opinion, 
no  right-minded  boy  ought  to  try  to  resist  it. 

After  Wyandotte  left  us,  Balser  and  I  sat 
before  the  fire  talking  excitedly  about  the 
gold  that  lay  hidden  somewhere  in  the  mar- 
vellous cave. 

"  Five  chests !  "  exclaimed  Balser.  "  I  tell 
you,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  we  must  find  that 
cave ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  we  must ;  but  how  can 
we?  One  moon,  two  moons,  three  moons 
journey  from  here.  He  might  as  well  have 
said  that  the  treasure  was  in  the  moon  for 
all  the  good  his  story  does  us." 

"But  think  of  it,"  said  Balser.  "Five 
133 


i34  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

chests!  Suppose  there  are  one  thousand 
dollars  in  each  chest,  and  no  decent  chest 
would  think  of  having  less;  that  would 
make  five  thousand  dollars.  Why,  I  tell 
you,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  we  would  be  rich  if 
we  could  find  it.  Twenty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars apiece !  We  could  each  buy  three  hun- 
dred acres  of  ground  —  of  good  ground  — 
if  we  could  find  the  treasure." 

"  Many  a  man  has  fallen  over  that  little 
word  «  if,' "  said  I. 

11  Oh,  but  we  know  so  much  about  it  al- 
ready," returned  Balser.  "  We  know  that  it 
is  hidden  in  Wyandotte's  cave.  We  know 
that  the  cave  is  near  a  great  river,  and  we 
know  even  the  number  of  chests  of  gold. 
We  know  all  except  the  exact  location  of 
the  cave." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  sarcastically;  "that's  all 
we  don't  know.  How  much  more,  for  good- 
ness' sake,  would  you  like  not  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  admit  it's  a  good  deal  not  to  know," 
said  Balser,  "but  what  we  have  heard  I 
think  is  a  good  deal  to  know.  Wyandotte 
said  the  cave  was  near  a  great  river.  He 
must  have  meant  the  Ohio  River." 

"  Or  the  Mississippi,"  I  interrupted. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  135 

"  Yes,  he  may  have  meant  the  Mississippi, 
or  any  other  river,  but  we'll  have  that  treas- 
ure some  day,  just  as  sure  as  you're  alive,n 
said  Balser. 

And  I  said,  "  I  hope  you're  right." 

Balser  and  I  continued  to  talk  about  the 
treasure  until  long  past  midnight,  when  we 
turned  in  and  dreamed  of  chests  of  gold  and 
caves  and  Indians,  until  Solomon  awakened 
us  singing  for  corn. 

After  the  Wyandotte  gold  got  to  ringing 
in  our  ears,  the  pelts  we  took  seemed  almost 
worthless,  and  our  zest  in  the  work  sadly 
flagged.  We  did  not,  however,  neglect  the 
traps  and  guns,  but  we  loved  best  to  sit 
before  the  fire  after  supper,  discussing  the 
treasure  and  talking  of  what  we  would  do 
with  the  money.  At  times  we  said  we 
would  buy  land,  but  the  land  would  have 
to  be  cleared  and  clearing  was  very  hard 
work.  We  thought  of  a  great  many  uses 
to  which  we  could  put  the  money,  but  al- 
ways fell  back  upon  one  plan ;  Balser  would 
give  his  part  of  the  gold  to  his  father  and  I 
would  give  my  part  to  my  father. 

"Won't  it  be  great,"  said  Balser,  "when 
I  go  into  the  house  and  throw  a  bag  full 


136  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

of  something  down  on  the  floor  in  front 
of  father,  and  say  kind  of  careless  like, 
'  There's  a  present  for  you,  father ; '  and 
father  will  look  at  it  kind  of  careless  like, 
and  he'll  say,  'What  is  it,  son?'  — and  I'll 
say :  '  Oh,  nothing  much.  Just  a  little  gold,' 
—  and  then  —  My !  I  wish  I  knew  where  the 
cave  is !  " 

I  suppose  there  is  not  a  man  living  who 
has  become  rich,  having  been  poor,  who  will 
not  say  that  his  anticipation  of  wealth  was 
far  sweeter  than  the  realization.  I  tell  you, 
one  dream  dollar  is  worth  a  double  eagle  of 
gold,  though  I  admit  that  it  will  not  buy  as 
much  to  eat.  As  long  as  I  live,  I'll  never 
forget  our  dreams  of  treasure  while  sitting 
before  the  fire  on  our  stump  chairs  in  the 
cabin  on  Brandywine.  We  were  rich  then 
— richer  than  Croesus — in  health,  youth,  and 
dreams.  My  life!  what  more  could  a  man 
ask  ?  Health,  youth,  and  dreams !  That's 
the  stuff  heaven  is  made  of. 

The  old  man  leaned  forward,  gazing  in 
revery  at  the  fire,  but  he  did  not  see  the 
flames  nor  the  glowing  embers.  He  saw  two 
boys  sitting  happily  together  in  their  rude 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  137 

cabin,  dreaming  and  talking  in  their  dreams. 
It  was  as  if  he  were  looking  through  an 
inverted  telescope  back  through  the  long 
years.  The  boys  looked  so  small  and  so  far 
away  that  they  seemed  to  him  like  beings  of 
another  race  living  in  another  world.  We 
all  knew  what  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  was 
thinking  about,  and  no  one  spoke  a  word  to 
disturb  his  retrospection.  Even  little  Mab 
felt  the  touch  of  sympathy,  and  reached  up 
from  her  chair,  slipping  her  dimpled  hand 
into  his.  He  kissed  it,  lifted  his  head,  sighed, 
and  continued :  — 

"  Ah,  life  was  sweet."  Then  he  relapsed 
into  silence  again.  After  a  little  time  one 
of  the  older  girls  said :  — 

"  It  is  sweet  now,  Uncle  Tom." 

"  So  it  is,  so  it  is.  It's  always  sweet,  but 
when  one  gets  old,  some  one  else  must  fur- 
nish the  sugar,"  answered  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill.  "  I  believe  I'll  tell  you  about  the  flood," 
continued  the  Adopter. 

"  Oh,  no,"  protested  Mab.  "  Tell  us  another 
bear  story.  We  had  all  about  the  flood  in 
Sunday-school  last  Sunday.  The  teacher 
told  us  all  about  the  ark,  and  the  animals,  and 
Noah.     We  know  all  about  that,  and  —  " 


138  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  intend  to  tell  you  about 
that  flood,"  said  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill. 
"  The  flood  I'll  tell  you  about  occurred  while 
Balser  and  I  were  living  in  the  cabin  on 
Brandywine,  and  the  only  animals  that  took 
any  part  in  it  were  Solomon,  Tige  and  Prince, 
a  mother  bear,  and  her  cubs." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Mab,  laughing 
contentedly  and  settling  herself  in  her  chair. 
"  Now  go  ahead." 

Mab  was  the  toast-master  and  started  the 
speaker  off  every  evening. 

THE    STORY 

Well,  the  flood  came  upon  us  as  most 
troubles  come  —  with  a  rush.  It  happened 
during  the  latter  part  of  February.  The  win- 
ter had  been  very  cold,  and  snow  had  accu- 
mulated in  great  quantities  on  the  ground. 
I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  seen  a  more 
beautiful  winter  than  that  was.  During  the 
last  week  in  February  we  noticed  indications 
of  a  break  in  the  cold  weather.  I  especially 
remember  one  night.  Balser  and  I  were  talk- 
ing "  treasure,"  as  usual,  before  the  fire.  The 
room  was  too  warm,  and  I  opened  the  door. 
When  I  sat  down  again,  I  said  :  — 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  139 

"  We'd  better  be  moving  home,  Balser,  or 
the  snow  will  melt,  and  poor  Solomon  will 
have  to  drag  the  sled  over  the  bare  ground. 
That  would  break  his  heart,  and  if  we  want 
to  save  him  the  trouble,  we  will  have  to  be 
going  pretty  soon." 

"  You're  right,"  answered  Balser.  "  There's 
another  danger,  too.  If  the  snow  melts 
quickly,  Brandywine  will  come  up  before  we 
can  bat  our  eyes,  and  we'll  be  surrounded  by 
water.  The  few  acres  of  ground  immedi- 
ately about  here  is  high  enough  to  protect 
us  from  a  small  flood,  but  back  of  us  the 
ground  is  low  and  the  creek  is  in  front.  If 
we  wait  till  the  snow  melts,  you  and  I  and 
Solomon  will  have  to  wait  for  the  flood  to 
go  off,  for  we  will  be  on  an  island.  The 
cabin  is  on  rather  low  ground,  and  the  flood 
might  reach  even  up  to  us.  In  that  case,  it 
would  drive  us  to  the  little  knoll  behind  the 
cabin,  and  we  would  be  without  shelter." 

"That's  right,"  said  I.  "Let  us  take  up 
our  traps  to-morrow  and  start  for  home  the 
day  after." 

"  Agreed,"  answered  Balser.  "  Then  we'll 
sell  our  pelts  and  start  out  to  find  the  treas- 
ure." 


i4o  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  Which  way  will  you  start  ? "  I  asked, 
laughing.  "  One  moon,  two  moon,  three 
moon.  I  tell  you,  Balser,  we  might  as  well 
start  for  the  moon." 

Balser's  dreams,  you  see,  were  far  more  real 
to  him  than  mine  were  to  me. 

"  I  don't  know  which  way  we'll  start,"  he 
answered,  slightly  nettled.  "  If  you  don't  want 
to  try  to  find  the  treasure,  say  so,  and  I'll  try  it 
alone,  for  I  tell  you,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  I'm  de- 
termined to  have  that  gold.  If  we  try,  we 
may  fail  —  probably  shall ;  but  if  we  don't 
try  at  all,  we'll  be  sure  not  to  find  it." 

"  Your  reasoning  is  good,  Balser,"  I  re- 
sponded. "  I  do  want  to  try,  but  while  I  love 
to  dream  about  it  and  to  talk  about  it,  I'll  tell 
you  candidly  that  I  haven't  much  faith  in 
Wyandotte's  gold.  But  I  should  like  to 
know  your  plan  for  beginning  to  try." 

You  see  I  lacked  imagination  and  persist- 
ency, and  Balser  had  plenty  of  both. 

"  I  haven't  a  plan,"  he  answered  hesitat- 
ingly ;  "  but  I  suppose  the  first  thing  to  do 
is  to  ask  everybody  we  meet  whether  they 
know  of  any  caves.  If  any  one  should 
happen  to  tell  us  of  a  great  cave  near  a 
river  —  well,  we'll  quit  ploughing  corn  and  go 


TlilY    LONG    FOR    SPRING   ANIi    COMI    OU1    OF   TUKIR    Ht'KKOWS 
IN   UAltCM   OF  FOOD" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  141 

to  that  cave.  But  if  we  hear  of  none  that 
answers  Wyandotte's  description,  we'll  wait 
till  after  the  corn  is  laid  by,  and  then  we'll 
start  out  on  our  own  hook.  I  would  suggest 
that  we  go  to  towns  along  the  Ohio  River  and 
ask  the  people  if  they  know  of  any  caves  in 
their  vicinity,  and  —  and  —  " 

"  By  George,  it's  a  good  plan,  Balser ! " 
said  I ;   "  there  is  hope." 

"  Of  course  there  is,"  he  responded. 

From  that  hour  I  too  was  afire  with  the 
treasure  fever. 

Next  morning  when  we  awakened,  the 
weather  had  turned  cold  again,  and  we  de- 
cided not  to  move  until  we  saw  further  indi- 
cations of  a  break. 

The  latter  part  of  a  cold  winter  is  the  best 
time  to  take  fur-bearing  animals.  They  long 
for  spring  and  come  out  of  their  burrows  in 
search  of  food.  It  was  during  February  that 
we  captured  most  of  the  beavers  taken  by  lis 
that  year.  February  was  the  cream  of  the 
season,  as  I  might  say.  In  ten  days  we  took 
more  than  fifty  beaver  pelts,  twice  as  many 
minks,  and  a  score  of  weasels.  We  killed  no 
less  than  a  dozen  red  foxes,  and  so  many 
muskrats  and  coons  that  we  lost  count.    Of 


i42  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

course,  we  devoted  most  of  our  time  to  hunt- 
ing beavers,  because  their  fur  was  far  more 
valuable  than  that  of  any  other  animal  we 
could  take  except  bear.  As  I  have  told  you, 
the  weather  turned  cold  again;  so  we  re- 
mained, and  we  did  take  a  fine  lot  of  skins. 

I  remember  breaking  up  a  beaver  dam  that 
extended  entirely  across  the  creek  about  a 
mile  above  the  cabin.  The  dam  was  most 
cunningly  constructed.  No  man  could  have 
built  a  better  one.  It  was  made  of  the  branches 
of  trees  and  logs.  Many  of  the  logs  were  six 
inches  in  diameter.  The  branches  and  logs 
were  knit  together  most  adroitly  and  were 
covered  with  leaves,  grass,  and  mud.  So  com- 
pletely did  the  dam  obstruct  the  creek  that  a 
mill-pond  was  created  extending  nearly  half 
a  mile  up-stream. 

On  the  morning  that  we  made  the  great 
haul,  we  found  all  our  traps  full.  We  killed 
the  beavers  that  had  been  caught  in  the  traps 
by  striking  them  on  the  head  with  a  heavy 
club.  After  we  had  emptied  our  traps,  Balser 
walked  out  on  the  dam  and  found  that  the 
warm  weather  had  melted  the  ice  in  places 
about  the  logs  and  tree  branches.  He  tried 
to  loosen  them  and  soon  found  several  that 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  143 

yielded  to  his  efforts.  He  drew  out  three  or 
four  loose  logs,  and  then  thrust  a  long  pole 
down  into  the  dam.  This,  of  course,  caused 
consternation  among  the  poor  little  beavers, 
and  they  began  to  run  out  through  the  tunnel 
that  served  them  as  a  doorway  and  opened 
above  the  water  line  on  the  bank.  I  stood 
at  the  opening,  club  in  hand,  and  killed  the 
beavers  as  they  came  out.  That  morning,  I 
think,  we  got  twenty-two. 

It  seemed  cruel  to  kill  the  beautiful  little  ani- 
mals, and  I  was  sore  of  conscience,  but  there 
were  two  good  reasons  for  killing  them.  One 
was  that  we  wanted  their  pelts.  That  reason 
alone  might  not  have  justified  us,  but  the 
second  one  did.  It  was  this:  no  orchard 
could  live  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  beaver 
dam.  The  little  pests  gnawed  the  bark  from 
the  young  fruit  trees  and  killed  them  as  fast 
as  the  farmers  could  plant  them.  But  they 
did  even  greater  damage  than  this.  Their 
dams  blockaded  the  streams,  backing  the 
water  over  the  bottom  land  and  ruining  the 
ground  for  agricultural  purposes. 

I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  sympathy  ex- 
pressed for  the  thousands  of  wild  animals 
that  were  slaughtered  by  the  settlers  in  early 


144  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

days;  but  it  was  war  to  the  death  between 
man  and  the  beasts  of  the  forest.  The  set- 
tlers' greatest  enemy  was  these  wild  animals. 
The  fox,  the  mink,  the  weasel,  the  coon,  and 
the  muskrat  would  often  depopulate  a  large 
poultry  yard  in  one  night.  Turkeys,  chick- 
ens, ducks,  and  geese  could  be  raised  only  by 
keeping  them  constantly  in  sight  or  by  con- 
fining them  in  substantial  buildings,  and  the 
farmers  were  too  poor  to  construct  these. 

Two  or  three  bears  and  a  herd  of  deer 
once  destroyed  a  large  field  of  young  corn 
for  my  father.  In  one  night  he  lost  an  en- 
tire season's  work  by  their  depredations.  I 
remember  one  winter  Balser's  father  lost  six 
fine  fat  shoats  that  he  was  saving  for  his 
winter's  meat.  Bears  killed  them  all  in  one 
night.  Bill  Raster  lost  nineteen  sheep  be- 
tween sunset  and  sunrise.  I  tell  you,  the 
settlers  had  to  kill  the  game  or  move  out  of 
the  country.  But  I  was  always  soft-hearted 
about  it,  and  now  that  the  poor  animals  are 
conquered,  I  would  not  shoot  one  in  cold 
blood. 

I  have  hunted  the  beasts  and  the  birds  of 
the  forest  as  much,  I  suppose,  as  any  man  of 
my  years,  but  I  stopped  when  the  foe  was 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  145 

conquered,  and  now  the  poor  wild  things 
should  be  allowed  to  live.  There  are  not 
many  left,  and  the  rich  farmer  of  to-day  is 
able  to  protect  himself  against  them.  But 
when  I  was  a  boy  we  had  to  kill  them  in  self- 
defence. 

But  I  must  get  back  to  the  story  of  the 
flood.  The  weather  remained  cold,  and 
Balser  and  I  were  so  busy  taking  pelts  that 
we  forgot  what  we  had  said  about  the  thaw. 
During  the  warm  days  the  ice  had  broken, 
and  it  was  banked  up  in  huge  piles  at  the 
drifts  and  bends  in  the  creek.  The  drifted 
ice  so  completely  dammed  the  stream  in 
many  places  that  a  warm  day  and  a  heavy 
rain  might  flood  us  in  a  few  hours,  but  we 
clung  to  the  cabin. 

One  morning  we  awakened  to  find  the  sun 
as  bright  and  almost  as  warm  as  on  a  fair 
May  day.  Two  such  days  would  spoil  the 
snow. 

After  feeding  Solomon,  Balser  came  back 
to  the  cabin,  where  I  was  getting  breakfast, 
and  said :  — 

"  We'll  go  home  to-morrow,  sure,  Tom 
Andy  Bill,  or  we  will  be  flooded." 

By  noon  the  weather  was  warmer,  the  sky 


146  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

was  overcast  with  clouds,  and  the  rain  began 
to  fall  in  torrents.  We  knew  then  that  the 
flood  would  soon  come,  so  we  prepared  for 
instant  flight.  But  we  had  waited  too  long. 
By  four  o'clock  the  flood  was  coming  down 
the  creek  like  a  tidal  wave,  and  by  six 
o'clock  we  were  on  an  island  of  perhaps 
twenty  acres  in  extent. 

Part  of  the  island  —  it  may  have  been  as 
much  as  four  or  five  acres  —  was  higher 
than  the  ground  on  which  our  cabin  and 
Solomon's  stable  stood.  The  flood  could 
not  reach  the  highest  point.  We  hoped  the 
water  would  not  reach  the  cabin,  though 
when  we  turned  in  that  night,  we  were  not 
at  all  sure  that  we  would  not  be  afloat  before 
morning.  But  when  we  woke  up,  the  water 
was  still  quite  a  distance  below  the  cabin, 
and  we  felt  confident  it  would  not  reach  us 
unless  the  rain  continued  for  an  unusual 
period.     But  the  rain  did  continue. 

For  a  day  or  two  Balser  and  I  were  busily 
engaged  in  packing  away  our  pelts  in  bundles 
and  in  removing  them  to  the  higher  ground, 
where  we  constructed  a  rude  shelter  of  tree 
branches  and  swamp  grass  straw.  The 
work  did  not  last  long,  and  when  it  was  fin* 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  147 

ished  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  about 
the  cabin  and  talk  "treasure."  When  the 
rain  ceased,  the  sun  shone  out  gladly,  and 
the  air  was  as  balmy  as  in  spring.  The 
country,  at  that  time,  was  not  drained  as  it  is 
now;  therefore  the  floods  passed  off  slowly. 
The  great  quantities  of  melting  snow  also 
prolonged  the  flood,  and  it  seemed  to  Balser 
and  me  that  the  yellow,  turbid  water  had 
come  to  stay.  Several  days  of  bright,  warm 
sunshine  passed,  until  at  length  the  grass 
began  to  grow,  and  the  wild  flowers  and 
even  the  leaves  of  the  trees  were  coaxed  into 
bud  before  their  time.  Balser  and  I  were 
growing  tired  of  our  imprisonment,  but  a 
more  serious  matter  confronted  us.  Our 
provisions  were  running  short.  The  warm 
weather  had  spoiled  our  fresh  meat,  and 
our  meal  and  potatoes  were  rapidly  disap- 
pearing. There  was  no  game  on  the  island 
that  we  had  been  able  to  find.  The  wild 
inhabitants  of  the  forest  had  been  wise 
enough  to  move  before  the  flood. 

Day  after  day  we  loafed  about  aimlessly 
until  we  were  tired  of  even  our  treasure 
dreams.  We  would  sit  by  the  creek  or  in 
the  cabin,  and  often,  when  the  sun  was  warm, 


148  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

we  would  stretch  ourselves  in  a  bright  spot 
on  the  new  grass  and  the  wild  flowers,  and 
would  "  snooze  "  like  sleepy  cats,  waiting  for 
the  flood  to  ebb. 

One  bright,  warm  day  I  stretched  myself 
in  a  patch  of  sunshine  a  few  hundred  yards 
from  the  cabin.  I  don't  know  how  long  I 
had  been  sleeping  when  I  was  awakened  by 
the  touch  of  something  cold  on  my  face. 
When  I  opened  my  eyes,  I  gazed  up  into 
an  inquisitive-looking,  sharp-snouted,  black, 
frowsy  little  countenance  that  seemed  to  be 
laughing  at  me.  It  was  the  cold  nose  be- 
longing to  this  little  face  that  had  disturbed 
my  slumbers.  Just  above  the  saucy  little 
face  was  a  larger  one,  and  —  Moses!  maybe 
I  wasn't  frightened !  What  I  saw  was  a 
bear  cub  and  its  mother. 

I  shouted  in  my  fright  and  began  to  rise. 
The  bears  were  as  much  frightened  as  I  and 
quickly  turned  tail.  I  sat  up  and  looked 
after  them,  taking  considerable  satisfaction 
from  the  feeling  that  I  had  frightened  them 
as  badly  as  they  had  frightened  me.  There 
were  three  in  the  bear  family  —  the  mother 
and  two  cubs.  A  mother  bear  with  cubs 
doesn't  run  far  if  her  children  lag  behind. 


"The  bkars  were  as  much  frightened  as  I 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  149 

I  suppose  no  animal  that  lives,  not  even  a 
doe,  is  as  curious  as  a  bear  cub. 

After  my  friends  had  retreated  to  a  little 
distance,  the  cubs  turned  to  look  at  me. 
They  seemed  to  laugh  at  the  curious  object 
they  had  disturbed,  and  doubtless  thinking 
that  I  was  an  animated  log,  wanted  to  ex- 
amine the  natural  wonder. 

I  stood  where  I  had  risen,  and  presently 
the  mother  bear  grunted  not  unlike  a  pig, 
summoning  her  children  to  follow  her.  The 
disobedient  cubs  did  not  move,  and  she 
came  back  to  them,  placed  herself  between 
me  and  her  babies,  and  rose  defiantly  to  her 
feet,  as  if  to  say,  "  Don't  you  touch  one  of 
my  cubs."  I  stood  still,  and  soon  the  mother 
bear  fell  to  all  fours,  turned  toward  the  cubs, 
and  placing  her  long  snout  under  them,  be- 
gan to  root  them  forward  as  a  pig  roots  the 
ground. 

It  was  amusing  and  beautiful  to  see  the 
great,  clumsy,  loving  mother  trying  to  "root" 
her  children  out  of  danger.  I  watched  her 
for  a  long  time.  She  gave  the  stubborn  cubs 
a  boost  forward  with  her  snout,  scolding  them 
with  grunts  and  growls  the  while,  and  turn- 
ing every  few  seconds   toward  me,  half  in 


150  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

anger,  half  in  fear.  I  could  plainly  hear  her 
say  to  the  cubs :  — 

"  Go  on,  you  little  fools.  Don't  you  know 
that  is  a  man,  the  most  dangerous  animal  in 
the  world  ?  " 

But  the  cubs,  like  many  another  fool  that 
doesn't  know  danger  when  he  sees  it  and 
mistakes  his  lack  of  wisdom  for  bravery, 
wanted  to  see  more  of  this  dangerous  ani- 
mal and  tried  to  run  back  to  me.  They 
were  not  afraid !  No,  not  they !  At  such 
times  the  poor  old  mother  bear  would  run 
clumsily  after  the  awkward  cubs,  growling, 
grunting,  and  scolding  in  great  tribulation. 
Presently  she  became  angry  in  earnest,  and 
struck  one  of  the  cubs  a  blow  with  her 
paw  that  sent  it  tumbling  down  a  little 
hill,  howling  and  whining  as  if  it  were 
being  killed.  After  that  the  youngsters 
toddled  on  ahead  while  the  old  bear,  anx- 
iously glancing  back  at  me,  waddled  after 
them  and  soon  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 
I  followed,  but  lost  them  in  the  underbrush, 
and  returned  to  the  cabin. 

I  told  Balser  of  my  adventure,  when  we  at 
once  shouldered  our  guns  and  started  in  pur- 
suit.    We  forgot   the    dogs   and   left   them 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  151 

sleeping  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  cabin. 
Afterward  we  were  glad  that  we  had  not 
disturbed  their  rest. 

The  island  was  small,  and  we  felt  sure  the 
old  bear  would  not  try  to  escape  by  swim- 
ming because  we  supposed  her  cubs  could 
not  follow  her.  They  would  perish  in  the 
water,  which  was  cold  and  broad  and  swift,  — 
too  cold  and  broad  and  swift  for  even  Balser 
or  me  to  try  to  swim,  —  and  the  loving  old 
bear  would  never  desert  her  cubs.  She 
would  bravely  stay  by  their  side,  and  would 
give  her  life  to  save  them  without  one  thought 
of  herself.  Balser  and  I,  therefore,  felt  sure 
that  we  could  not  fail  to  bag  the  whole 
family. 

We  hurried  to  the  spot  where  the  bears 
had  entered  the  thicket,  thrust  aside  the 
bushes,  and  soon  took  up  the  spoor  on  the 
soft  ground.  The  tracks  were  plainly  visible 
and  were  always  in  the  same  relative  position 
—  the  cubs  in  front  and  the  mother  in  the 
place  of  danger,  guarding  their  retreat. 

I  confess  my  heart  softened  when  I  thought 
of  the  old  mother  bear  holding  her  life  as 
nothing  for  the  sake  of  her  cubs,  but  my 
sympathy  did  not  check  our  pursuit. 


152  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

We  moved  cautiously  and  silently,  with 
guns  always  ready  for  instant  use,  for  we 
knew  that  the  mother  bear  would  fight  like 
forty  demons  when  she  learned  that  her  cubs 
were  in  danger.  We  knew  that  when  she 
saw  us  and  realized  that  we  were  after  her 
children,  she  would  charge  upon  us  without 
the  slightest  fear.  She  would,  if  she  could, 
engage  us  at  peril  of  her  own  life  while  her 
cubs  escaped,  and  would  gladly  give  us  every 
drop  of  her  blood  to  save  her  young.  I  felt 
like  a  wolf  —  a  cowardly  wolf.  But  it  seemed 
to  be  our  duty  to  kill  the  bears,  and  we 
hurried  forward  on  our  mission  of  death. 
We  made  slow  progress  through  the  thicket, 
but  we  knew  we  could  not  have  far  to  go 
until  the  water  would  stop  us  and  the 
bears. 

After  we  had  followed  the  tracks  a  short 
distance  into  the  thicket,  we  came  to  a  small 
hill  upon  which  grew  several  large  walnut 
trees.  We  ascended  the  hill  and  as  our  heads 
rose  above  the  crest,  we  saw  the  mother  bear 
and  her  cubs  playing  in  a  small  sunlit  ravine 
just  below  us.  We  each  hid  behind  a  large 
tree  to  watch  them. 

Poor  old  mother  bear !     She  thought  she 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  153 

had  taken  her  family  to  a  place  of  safety,  but 
no  place  is  safe  from  that  most  dangerous  of  all 
animals,  man.  Believing  herself  safe,  she  had 
relaxed  her  vigilance  and  was  playing  with 
her  babies.  No  prettier  sight  ever  greeted 
the  eyes  of  a  murderous  hunter.  She  lay 
upon  her  back  with  all  four  feet  in  the  air,  and 
when  the  playful  cubs  ran  to  her,  she  pushed 
them  away  with  her  great,  horny  paw  as 
gently  as  a  mother  touches  the  chin  of  the 
babe  cooing  in  her  lap.  Then  she  would  let 
them  clutch  her  paw  or  her  great,  hairy  throat 
between  their  baby  jaws,  and  would  allow 
them  to  "  wool  "  her  as  a  puppy  does  its  play- 
mate. 

If,  for  a  moment,  being  out  of  breath,  the 
cubs  rested  on  their  haunches,  laughing  and 
panting  with  their  little  red  mouths  open 
and  their  tongues  hanging  out,  she  would 
incite  them  to  renew  the  frolic  by  feinting 
at  them  with  her  paws  or  by  lifting  her  lips 
from  her  white  teeth  in  mimic  anger.  Then 
the  awkward,  precious  cubs  would  fall  upon 
her  with  fierce  baby  growls,  and  the  dear 
old  mother  bear,  all  unconscious  of  the  over- 
hanging shadow  of  death,  revelled  in  the 
sweetest  bliss  that  bear  or  man  can  know. 


i54  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

For  five  minutes  Balser  and  I  watched  the 
touching  little  comedy  with  its  impending 
tragic  end.  When  the  cubs  were  tired  and 
out  of  breath,  they  lay  down  beside  the  mother 
in  the  balmy  warmth  of  the  sun,  and  she 
licked  their  downy  sides  till  they  shone  with 
the  lustre  of  her  love.  Twice  I  saw  Balser 
lift  his  gun  to  fire,  but  twice  he  lowered  it. 
I  glanced  at  his  face,  and  I  thought  that  tears 
were  in  his  eyes.  I  tried  to  lift  my  gun,  but 
some  way  my  heart  failed  me. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  I  said  to 
myself ;  "  you  are  as  soft-hearted  as  a  chicken." 

I  tried  to  coax  myself  to  shoot  and  failing 
in  that,  I  tried  to  bully  myself,  but  for  a  time 
it  was  all  of  no  avail.  I  could  neither  coax 
nor  drive  myself  to  send  the  fatal  bullet  on 
its  mission  of  death.  Presently  I  clinched 
my  teeth,  determined  to  fire  the  shot.  I 
lifted  my  gun  to  my  shoulder  and  glanced 
toward  Balser.  He  looked  at  me  with  a 
curious  expression  on  his  face,  and  my  gun 
came  down  again.  I  shook  my  head  dole- 
fully, as  if  to  say,  "  I  can't  do  it,"  and  he 
shook  his  head,  but  neither  of  us  spoke  a 
word.  We  watched  the  bears  a  moment 
longer,  and  wishing  to  lead  ourselves  out  of 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  155 

temptation,  noiselessly  turned  away  and 
started  down  the  hill. 

We  stole  back  to  the  crest  of  the  hill  for 
one  more  look,  and  saw  the  mother  bear 
stretched  full  length  in  the  sunshine,  the  two 
cubs  lying  with  their  frowsy  baby  heads  rest- 
ing upon  her  brave,  tender  heart.  I  would 
not  have  killed  her  for  all  the  Wyandotte 
treasure  laid  at  my  feet. 

We  went  back  in  silence  to  our  cabin,  and 
Balser  began  to  prepare  supper. 

"  The  meal  is  getting  dangerously  low," 
said  he,  "  and  there's  not  over  two  pecks  of 
potatoes  left.  If  the  flood  doesn't  soon  go 
down,  we  may  have  to  kill  the  old  bear  or 
starve." 

"  I'll  swim  for  it  first,"  said  I.  "  I'll  let  the 
old  bear  alone  if  she  doesn't  bother  me." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  more  beauti- 
ful ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  It  was  human,"  I  answered;  "and  all  my 
life  I'll  be  glad  to  think  that  I  had  enough 
humanity  in  my  heart  not  to  kill  her." 

"  God  seems  to  have  scattered  love  broad- 
cast on  this  earth,"  said  Balser,  who  should 
have  been  a  poet.  "  I  believe  it  is  the  magic 
bond  that  holds  the  world  together." 


156  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  convinced  I 
am  that  he  was  right. 

That  night  the  rain  came  on  again.  My 
life,  how  it  did  pour  down !  Soon  after  dark 
it  came  in  torrents.  We  lay  for  a  long  time 
listening  to  the  fierce  patter  on  the  roof, 
talking  about  the  mother  bear  and  dreaming 
of  Wyandotte's  treasure ;  but  our  eyes  were 
always  full  of  sleep  and  nothing  could  keep  us 
awake  for  long. 

At  times  during  the  night  we  were  awak- 
ened by  thunder.  How  it  did  boom  and 
rumble !  It  seemed  as  if  the  sky  were  scold- 
ing the  earth  with  the  voices  of  a  thousand 
cannon.  The  lightning,  too,  was  like  a  con- 
stant conflagration  in  the  clouds,  but  we  soon 
grew  accustomed  to  the  fierce  war  and  went 
to  sleep  again. 

I  don't  know  how  long  we  had  slept  when 
I  was  aroused  by  the  barking  of  Tige  and 
Prince  just  outside  the  door. 

"  Keep  still !  "  I  shouted,  but  the  dogs  con- 
tinued to  bark,  and  I,  becoming  angry,  rose 
and  opened  the  door  to  silence  them.  When 
I  put  my  feet  down  to  the  floor  from  the 
slightly  elevated  platform  on  which  we  had 
made  our  bed,  I  stepped  into  three  inches  of 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  157 

water,  and  you  may  be  sure  I  was  frightened 
and  surprised.     I  aroused  Balser,  saying :  — 

"  The  flood  is  upon  us !    Hurry !    Hurry ! " 

He  drowsily  rubbed  his  eyes. 

■  What's  the  matter  ? "  he  asked.  "  Do  lie 
down  and  let  a  fellow  sleep.  You  prowl 
about  like  a  night  owl." 

For  answer  I  drew  him  to  the  edge  of  the 
bed  and  rolled  him  off  into  the  cold  water. 
That  opened  his  eyes,  and  maybe  he  wasn't 
mad !  But  I  had  no  time  to  waste  in  wordy 
explanations. 

The  fire  was  drowned  out  and  the  cabin 
floor  was  all  afloat.  Balser  quickly  arose 
from  his  early  morning  bath.  Without  a 
word  we  each  began  to  gather  armloads  of 
provisions,  guns,  and  utensils,  and  at  once 
started  for  the  high  ground. 

The  night  was  so  dark  that  we  could  hardly 
see  our  way,  but  we  knew  the  path,  and  very 
soon  we  had  deposited  our  loads  out  of  reach 
of  the  water.  Then  we  went  back  for  another 
load.  Fortunately  our  belongings  were  few, 
and  the  second  trip  saved  all  our  valuables. 

The  rain  was  still  falling  in  torrents  and 
the  night  seemed  to  grow  blacker  after  each 
flash  of  lightning.    We  placed  all  our  perish- 


158  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

able  goods  under  the  shelter  prepared  for 
the  pelts,  but  we  had  no  roof  for  ourselves. 
We  congratulated  each  other  on  our  lucky 
escape  with  the  provisions,  etc.,  and  while  we 
were  wondering  if  we  had  left  anything  in 
the  cabin,  we  were  startled  by  a  song  —  a 
complaining  tearful  wail  —  from  Solomon. 
We  had  forgotten  the  poor  wise  one,  and  he 
was  grieved  and  hurt,  as  we  could  easily  dis- 
cover from  the  emotional  tremor  in  his  voice. 

Without  a  word  we  both  ran  to  Solomon's 
rescue.  When  we  reached  his  stable,  we 
found  him  standing  knee-deep  in  water,  the 
picture  of  woe.  I  quickly  haltered  him  and 
led  him  out.  He,  of  course,  was  justly  pro- 
voked; but  when  we  reached  the  high  ground, 
Balser  stroked  his  ears  by  way  of  apology 
for  our  neglect,  and  the  wise  one's  accus- 
tomed good  nature  soon  returned. 

While  Balser  was  stroking  Solomon's  ears, 
I  thought  of  the  powder  keg. 

"  Our  powder !  "  I  cried. 

Again  we  hurried  back  to  the  stable,  but 
the  powder  could  not  be  found.  We  res- 
cued Solomon's  harness  and  collected  a  few 
dozen  ears  of  corn ;  then  we  hurried  back  to 
safety,  for  the  water  was  rising  rapidly. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  159 

It  must  have  been  well  toward  morning 
when  we  were  aroused  by  the  water,  but  we 
thought  the  night  would  never  end.  If  you 
want  to  know  just  how  long  an  hour  is,  stand 
out  in  the  pouring  rain  on  a  pitch  black 
night,  and  wait  for  the  sun  to  come  up. 
Time  flies  for  the  happy  man,  drags  for  the 
dull  man,  and  dies  for  the  one  in  trouble. 
That  night  we  thought  that  Time  was  dead 
and  buried ;  but  Time  never  really  dies,  and 
after  a  weary  while  he  lifted  up  the  sun  to 
look  upon  two  of  the  most  uncomfortable 
boys  that  ever  fell  under  the  luminary's  gaze. 
Toward  noon  the  rain  ceased  and  the  sun 
shone  out  with  a  barefaced  effrontery  that 
would  have  made  you  think  he  was  uncon- 
scious of  the  fact  that  he  had  been  shame- 
fully lazy  in  rising. 

We  tried  to  build  a  fire,  but  everything, 
including  our  tinder  box,  was  wet,  and  we 
had  to  content  ourselves  with  a  few  raw  po- 
tatoes and  a  handful  of  uncooked  meal  for 
breakfast  and  dinner. 

"  I  wonder  where  the  bear  is,"  said  Bal- 
ser. 

"  Let's  find  her,"  I  suggested.  "  The  high 
ground    cannot    be   more    than    five    acres 


160  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

in  extent,  and  she  is  not  far  away  with  her 
cubs." 

We  started  out  with  our  guns  to  find  the 
bear  but  not  to  kill  her.  The  guns  were 
taken  solely  as  a  means  of  self-defence.  We 
were  not  long  in  finding  the  poor  old  brute. 
She  had  concealed  herself  and  the  cubs  as 
best  she  could  beneath  the  low-lying  branches 
of  a  haw  tree,  where  she  had  made  a  cosey 
nest  of  leaves  and  straw.  When  she  saw  us 
she  at  once  prepared  for  battle,  but  we  re- 
treated and  left  her  unmolested.  I  believe 
that  kindness  in  sufficient  quantities  will 
soften  the  heart  of  anything  that  breathes 
the  breath  of  life,  and  this  poor  old  mother 
bear  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

During  the  next  five  days  a  wonderful 
thing  happened.  Balser  and  I  had  grown  to 
love  the  rough  old  mother  bear,  and  so 
deeply  did  she  interest  us  that  we  could  not 
keep  away  from  her  nest  under  the  haw  tree. 
We  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  watch  her  and 
to  eat  raw  potatoes  and  uncooked  meal ; 
therefore  we  went  to  visit  our  neighbor 
many  times  in  the  day.  Soon  she  ceased  to 
snarl  and  growl  at  us  unless  we  went  too 
near.     She  seemed  to  have  learned  that  we 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  161 

meant  no  harm  to  her  and  her  dear  ones,  and 
after  a  time  she  did  not  run  back  to  her  nest 
when  she  saw  us  approaching. 

On  the  fourth  day  she  came  quite  close  to 
where  Balser  and  I  were  sitting  under  a  rude 
bark  shed  that  we  had  constructed.  She 
was  ploughing  up  the  ground  with  her  nose, 
searching  for  roots,  and  paid  no  attention 
to  us. 

For  a  time  we  had  great  difficulty  in  re- 
straining Tige  and  Prince,  but  after  a  few 
sound  thrashings  they  learned  good  manners 
and  did  not  molest  the  bears.  Another  pe- 
culiar thing  happened.  Tige  and  Prince 
had  been  the  best  bear  fighters  I  have  ever 
known,  but  after  their  acquaintance  with  the 
old  mother  bear  and  her  cubs,  and  after  we 
had  thrashed  them  for  attacking  her,  they 
were  of  no  use  in  bear  hunting.  Frequently 
in  after  days  we  tried  to  make  them  attack 
bears,  but  we  never  succeeded. 

Seven  long  days  did  we  remain  on  that 
island.  One  morning  —  I  think  it  was  the 
eighth  day  —  we  saw  a  large  boat,  of  the 
scow  pattern,  coming  toward  us.  My  father 
and  Balser's  father  were  in  the  boat,  and 
you  may  be  sure  there  were  two  happy  boys 


162  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

dancing  at  the  water's  edge  waiting  for  them. 
They  brought  food  and  clothing,  and  I  do 
believe  we  would  have  killed  ourselves  eating 
had  our  fathers  not  restrained  us. 

We  were  not  long  in  climbing  into  the 
boat  and  starting  for  home.  We  took  our 
guns  and  sleeping-bags,  but  we  left  the  pelts 
until  the  water  should  subside,  when  we  would 
come  back  to  fetch  them. 

We  started  off  without  Solomon,  knowing 
that  he  would  follow  us.  He  protested  vio- 
lently, indignantly,  against  our  desertion  ;  but 
when  he  saw  that  we  really  intended  to  leave 
him,  he  plunged  into  the  water,  and,  after  a 
hard  swim,  landed  safely  on  the  opposite  bank. 

While  we  were  waiting  for  Solomon,  we 
thought  we  saw  the  old  mother  bear  swim- 
ming down-stream  with  her  cubs  clinging  to 
her.  I  am  not  willing  to  vouch  for  the  last 
statement,  for  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  believe  it 
is  true.  An  old  bear  hunter  once  told  me 
that  he  had  seen  a  mother  bear  swimming  a 
small  lake  with  a  cub  on  her  back.  I  don't 
know  that  he  told  the  truth,  but  I  like  to 
believe  stories  of  that  sort,  and  I'm  going  to 
believe  all  I  hear. 

We  got  the  pelts  later  on  and  took  them 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  1O3 

to  Cincinnati,  where  we  sold  them.  I'll  teK 
you  sometime  about  our  wonderful  trip  to 
Cincinnati,  and  about  our  adventure  with 
the  robbers  on  the  way  home ;  but  I  am  sleepy 
now,  and  the  Sandman  has  been  troubling 
Mab  for  quite  a  while. 

Tom  Andy  Bill  stopped  speaking,  and 
after  a  minute  or  two  of  silence,  Mab  said : 

"Thank  you,  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,  for 
not  killing  the  mother  bear." 

"  You  are  welcome,  Mab,"  said  Uncle  Tom, 
laughing,  and  then,  turning  to  us,  he  said, 
"  Good  night  all !  " 

"  Good  night  all  !  "  echoed  Mab,  clinging 
sleepily  to  the  favorite  finger,  as  she  went  off 
to  the  beautiful  home  of  the  Sandman  in  the 
drowsy  Land  of  Nod. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


LOST    IN   THE    CAVE 


"  Tell  us  some  more  about  a  mother  bear 
and  her  cubs,"  suggested  Mab,  next  evening, 
while  the  audience  was  waiting  for  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill's  story. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  he  answered,  "  for  I,  too, 
like  mother  bears.  The  one  I  told  you 
about  is  the  only  one  I  have  ever  known  at 
all  intimately.  They  are  very  cautious  while 
raising  their  cubs,  and  usually  make  their 
nests  in  secluded  spots  where  they  believe 
they  are  safe  from  their  mortal  enemy.  I 
have  heard  it  said  that  the  father  bear  hunts 
food  for  his  family  when  the  cubs  are  very 
young,  but  I  don't  believe  the  story.  The 
father  bear,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  very  disrepu- 
table personage,  and  so  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  learn,  looks  out  for  '  number  one '  and 
lets  his  wife  take  care  of  herself  and  the 
babies. 

"  A  man  from  Kentucky  once  told  me  a 
164 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  165 

story  about  a  mother  bear  and  a  father  bear 
that  reflected  no  credit  on  the  latter.  I  don't 
vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  story,  though  I 
believe  it.  I  have  heard  many  strange  anec- 
dotes concerning  wild  animals,  and  so  many 
wonderful  manifestations  of  their  intelligence 
have  come  under  my  own  personal  observa- 
tion that  I  believe  nearly  all  I  hear,  for  I 
know  that  the  beasts  of  the  forest  do  more 
thinking  that  goes  straight  to  the  point  than 
the  average  white  man  does.  I  don't,  how- 
ever, vouch  for  anything  that  I  haven't  seen, 
but  I  don't  want  any  one  to  doubt  what  I 
say  I  have  seen." 

"  What  was  the  story  of  the  man  from 
Kentucky  ? "  asked  Mab. 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  much,"  said  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill.  "  It  wasn't  a  story,  it  was  a  mere 
incident.  He  said  that  one  day  he  and  his 
wife  had  been  to  town  and  that  when  they 
returned,  and  were  approaching  their  cabin, 
situated  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  forest,  they 
heard  a  terrific  squealing  in  his  pig-pen. 
He  ran  to  the  barnyard  to  learn  the  trouble. 
He  suspected  that  bears  were  after  his  shoat, 
and  he  was  right. 

"  A  short  distance  from  the  pen  were  two 


166  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

bears  and  two  cubs.  The  father  bear  was 
cuffing  his  wife  unmercifully  in  an  endeavor 
to  make  her  climb  the  walls  of  the  pig-pen 
and  bring  out  the  one  lone  shoat  it  contained. 
The  shoat  knew  its  danger  and  was  squeal- 
ing for  dear  life.  The  bears  did  not  at  first 
see  the  man. 

"  After  considerable  coaxing  and  many 
blows,  the  bear  husband  induced  his  wife  to 
go  into  the  pen  and  get  the  shoat.  Over 
she  went,  and  the  pig  squealed  as  it  never 
had  squealed  before.  The  man  tried  to 
frighten  the  intruders  away,  but  he  had 
loaned  his  gun  to  a  neighbor,  and  the  bears 
were  aware  of  the  fact  —  that  is,  the  man 
said  they  were  aware  of  it.  At  any  rate,  they 
saw  he  had  no  gun,  and  he  said  they  told 
him  in  grunts  and  growls  to  keep  on  his  own 
side  of  the  fence. 

"  The  man  hated  to  lose  his  shoat,  but 
being  deficient  in  courage,  he  did  not  molest 
the  bears.  From  a  safe  distance  he  saw  the 
she  bear  climb  into  the  pen,  seize  the  shoat 
in  her  arms,  and  take  it  to  her  husband. 
When  she  brought  it  to  him,  what  do  you 
suppose  he  did  ?  " 

"  He  kissed  her,"  suggested  Mab. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  167 

"  No,"  answered  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill. 
"  He  knocked  her  over,  took  the  shoat  away 
from  her,  went  off  by  himself,  and  ate  it  to 
the  last  bone,  without  giving  his  wife  one 
mouthful.  It  is  something  disgusting  to 
see  how  like  a  certain  class  of  human  beings 
some  animals  can  act. 

"  When  the  father  bear  had  eaten  the  last 
of  the  shoat,  the  disappointed  old  mother 
bear  went  back  to  the  pen  and  put  her  paws 
on  the  top  rail  to  see  if,  by  any  chance,  she 
had  overlooked  a  shoat.  Disappointed  in 
the  matter  of  young  pork,  she  deliberately 
marched  around  the  barnyard  fence  and  ap- 
proached the  house  with  all  the  effrontery  of 
a  tramp. 

"  I  suppose  the  man  must  have  been  right 
when  he  said  that  the  bears  knew  the  gun 
was  visiting.  The  mother  bear  nosed  about 
the  house,  poked  her  snout  in  at  the  kitchen 
door,  and  then  started  out  to  look  for  the 
milk-house  with  the  hungry  cubs  toddling, 
waddling,  and  squealing  at  her  heels. 

"  The  man's  wife  was  frightened  at  first, 
and,  he  said,  she  climbed  a  tree ;  but  when 
she  recovered  her  composure,  she  climbed 
down  from  the  tree,  went  to  the  house,  took 


168  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

a  shovelful  of  coals  from  the  fireplace,  and 
followed  Madame  Bear  and  her  family  into 
the  milk-house. 

"  When  the  woman  entered  the  milk-house 
and  saw  the  bear  and  cubs  drinking  her  milk 
and  eating  her  butter,  she  was  so  angry  that 
she  threw  the  shovelful  of  hot  coals  in  the 
bear's  face,  and  so  belabored  it  with  her 
shovel  that  the  surprised  intruder  beat  a 
hasty  retreat.  But  the  woman's  '  mad  '  was 
up,  so  she  seized  an  axe,  ran  after  the  bear, 
struck  it  a  mighty  blow  on  the  head,  and 
the  poor  little  cubs  were  motherless. 

"  After  the  woman  had  killed  the  mother 
bear,  she  easily  killed  the  cubs,  and  then 
started  out  to  hunt  for  the  father  bear.  But 
he  had  escaped  to  the  woods  and,  doubtless, 
told  his  friends  how  he  had  stolen  a  fine,  fat 
shoat  right  from  under  a  farmer's  nose.  The 
woman's  husband  went  to  town  next  day 
and  told  his  friends  how  'we  killed  three 
bears  up  at  our  house  yesterday.'  So  you 
see  it  isn't  only  a  bear  that  sometimes  acts 
'human-like.'  There  are  animals  calling 
themselves  men  that  sometimes  act  'bear- 
like.' 

"  Reason  ?     Of  course  animals  reason.     I 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  169 

once  heard  of  a  fox  that  walked  backward  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  throw  his  pursuers  off 
the  track.  I  expected  you  to  laugh  at  that 
statement,  but  I  believe  the  story.  I  have 
known  foxes  to  drag  their  brushes  over  their 
tracks  in  the  snow  to  obliterate  them.  Man 
is  a  vain  coxcomb  to  suppose  that  he  does 
all  the  thinking  that  is  done  in  this  world. 
There  was  once  a  dog  in  Central  Park,  New 
York  City,  that  counted  the  sheep  as  they 
entered  the  fold.  I  saw  him  do  it.  By  a 
little  effort  I  believe  that  dog  could  have 
been  taught  vulgar  fractions." 

Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  silently  puffed  his 
pipe,  and  the  audience  soon  began  to  stir 
nervously  in  their  chairs,  waiting  for  the 
main  show.  After  a  few  minutes,  Mab,  as 
usual,  lifted  her  soft,  coaxing  hand  and 
gently  grasped  the  favorite  finger.  Even 
that  did  not  start  the  performance.  The 
gallery,  consisting  of  the  small  boys,  was 
growing  anxious,  and  little  Die,  hoping  to 
help  matters  along,  asked :  — 

"  Did  you  ever  get  the  pelts,  Uncle  Tom  ? " 

"  Indeed  we   did   get   them.     There   was 

nearly  a  wagon  load  of  the  finest  fur  that 

was  ever  taken  on  Blue  River.     We  sold  it 


170  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

at  Cincinnati,  and  —  well,  I'll  tell  you  about 
it.  I've  been  wondering  what  I  could  tell 
you  to-night,  and  that  will  make  a  fairly 
good  story.  We  had  at  least  one  stirring 
adventure,  and  we  brought  back  with  us  — 
we  brought  back  with  us  a  —  a  —  girl.  We 
found  her  —  we  found  her  and  —  and — " 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  stopped  speaking. 
His  great  eyes  glowed  tenderly  on  Mab. 
He  placed  his  hand  lovingly  on  her  head, 
gazed  dreamily  into  the  fire,  and  after  a  long 
pause,  continued :  — 

"  We  found  her  on  our  way  home,  and 
after  I  tell  you  about  our  trip  to  Cincinnati 
and  our  search  for  Wyandotte's  cave,  I  will 
tell  you  of  the  adventure  that  resulted  in  our 
finding  the  girl." 

THE    STORY 

After  the  corn  was  laid  by  that  summer, 
Balser  and  I  took  my  father's  team  and 
covered  wagon,  loaded  in  the  pelts,  and 
started  southeast  on  the  famous  Michigan 
Road  for  Cincinnati.  In  addition  to  provi- 
sions necessary  for  the  journey,  we  had  an 
iron  pot,  a  skillet,  and  a  Dutch  oven.  The 
latter  was  a  very  useful  utensil.     It  was  a 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  171 

flat-bottomed  round  pot,  eight  inches  in  diam- 
eter and  five  inches  deep,  resting  on  three 
legs  three  inches  high,  and  having  a  close- 
fitting  top. 

When  we  wished  to  use  the  Dutch  oven, 
we  heated  it  in  the  fire ;  then  we  drew  it 
out  and  placed  it  over  the  hot  ashes.  Live 
coals  were  collected  near  the  oven  to  keep 
it  warm,  but  we  were  careful  not  to  have  the 
coals  too  close,  lest  it  become  overheated 
and  burn  the  contents.  We  placed  the  corn 
pone  (or  whatever  article  we  wished  to  bake) 
inside  the  oven,  covered  it  with  the  top,  and 
soon  the  heat  of  the  ashes  and  the  coals 
baked  our  supper  for  us  beautifully. 

We  started  from  home  on  the  last  day  of 
July,  and  the  weather  being  warm  and 
pleasant,  we  slept  comfortably  under  the 
wagon.  There  were  many  inns  along  the 
road,  but  to  stop  at  them  would  have  re- 
quired money,  and  we  had  very  little  of  that. 
We  therefore  camped  out,  and  preferred  our 
bed  on  the  ground  to  any  that  could  be 
found  in  a  tavern.  When  it  rained,  we 
spread  our  bearskins  over  the  pelts  inside  the 
wagon  and  slept  there  as  dry  as  a  powder- 
horn. 


172  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

We  had  often  heard  of  a  band  of  robbers 
that  lived,  it  was  said,  north  of  the  Michigan 
Road  in  the  heart  of  a  great,  forest-covered 
swamp.  It  was  rumored  that  the  band  con- 
sisted of  one  family,  and  it  was  often  hinted 
that  they  were  related  to  certain  of  the  inn- 
keepers along  the  road.  No  one  knew  much 
about  them,  and  those  who  knew  anything 
wanted  to  know  less. 

Once  in  a  long  while  the  plundering  of  a 
wagon  was  reported,  but  the  robbers  usually 
confined  themselves  to  the  gentle  art  of 
horse  stealing.  It  was  supposed  that  they 
sold  their  horses  to  dealers  in  Cincinnati 
with  whom  the  thieves  were  in  league. 

The  exact  locality  of  the  robbers'  home 
had  never  been  ascertained.  Some  claimed 
that  they  lived  within  a  few  miles  of  Cin- 
cinnati ;  others  said  that  their  home  was  fifty 
or  sixty  miles  west  of  that  city ;  but  all 
agreed  that  it  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dark 
forest  and  was  surrounded  by  a  swamp  im- 
passable to  all  save  those  who  knew  the  key 
to  the  labyrinth  leading  to  the  robbers'  abode. 

As  I  have  told  you,  certain  taverns  along 
the  road  bore  a  bad  reputation  because  of 
their  supposed  connection  with  this  robber 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  173 

band.  But  no  one  could  say  with  certainty 
that  he  knew  the  reputation  was  deserved  by 
any  one  of  the  taverns  until  Balser  and  I 
discovered  one  that,  as  we  learnt  without 
question  and  to  our  sorrow,  did  deserve  all 
the  evil  that  could  be  said  of  it.  But  this 
occurred  on  our  return  journey  from  Cin- 
cinnati, and  I'll  not  tell  you  about  it  until  its 
turn  comes.  It  was  said  that  the  family  of 
robbers  bore  the  name  of  Wolf.  Whatever 
their  names  may  have  been,  they  were  known 
throughout  the  length  of  the  Michigan  Road 
as  "  The  Wolves,"  and  beyond  doubt  they 
deserved  their  name. 

For  two  days  and  nights  after  Balser  and 
I  started  for  Cincinnati,  the  weather  was 
fine.  We  left  home  before  sun-up  one  morn- 
ing and  drove  till  eleven  o'clock.  At  that 
hour,  the  day  being  very  hot,  we  halted  in  a 
beautiful  little  grove  of  water  elms  that  grew 
beside  a  sparkling,  spring-fed  creek  and 
gave  a  shadowy  coolness  to  its  limpid  pools. 

We  unhitched  the  horses,  took  off  their 
harness,  watered  them,  and  after  they  had 
rolled  over  and  over  on  the  soft  green  sod, 
we  gave  them  their  corn.  When  they  had 
eaten   their  dinner,  we   knee-haltered  them 


174  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

and  turned  them  out  to  graze.  After  Balser 
and  I  had  eaten  our  dinner  we  lay  down  in 
the  shade,  and  Balser  said  we  kept  each 
other  awake  snoring. 

We  rested  until  the  greatest  heat  of  the 
day  was  past ;  then  we  hitched  up  and  drove 
along  slowly  through  the  dust  and  the  sun- 
shine till  supper  time.  We  did  not  unhitch 
for  supper,  but  hurried  through  the  meal  and 
started  on  the  road. 

By  ten  o'clock  we  reached  another  creek, 
and  there  we  camped  for  the  night,  sleeping 
in  the  open  air  under  a  rich  elm  canopy. 
We  were  tired,  and  though  ten  o'clock  was  a 
very  late  hour  for  us  to  be  awake,  we  did  not 
go  to  sleep  at  once.  After  we  had  turned 
in  on  our  bed  of  sod,  everything  was  so  still 
for  a  time  that  the  air  seemed  fairly  to  buzz. 

We  were  almost  asleep  when  suddenly 
there  came  from  the  branches  of  the  tree 
above  us  a  booming,  roaring,  reverberating 
"  To-hoo,  to-hoo,  to-hoo  !  "  I  sprang  to  my 
feet,  so  frightened  that  my  hair  stood  out 
"like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine." 
The  doleful  sounds  came  from  an  owl  that 
probably  imagined  it  was  singing.  Previous 
to  that  time  I  had  supposed  that  no  living 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  175 

bird  could  emit  so  terrific  a  sound.  Balser, 
too,  sprang  up,  frightened,  and  then  we 
laughed  at  each  other  till  the  tears  came. 
I  threw  a  stone  into  the  tree,  and  the  owl 
flew  away.  It  did  not  go  far,  and  soon  again 
it  began  to  sing,  keeping  up  the  serenade  at 
intervals  all  night. 

After  a  time  the  mournful  notes  of  a  whip- 
poor-will  came  to  us  from  the  limbs  of  a 
dead  tree  a  short  distance  up-stream,  and 
now  and  then  the  voice  of  a  wakeful  turtle- 
dove would  come  in  its  sad,  cooing  cadence 
through  the  balmy,  star-pierced  blue  of  the 
silence-laden  night.  Once  in  a  while  we 
heard  the  "  peep,  peep,  peep  "  of  a  drowsy 
bird  roosting  in  the  branches  above  us,  and 
ever  the  fitful  sighing  of  the  wind,  breathing 
upon  the  leaves,  set  them  whispering  till  we 
fancied  that  the  air  was  full  of  fairies  and 
the  fairies  full  of  song.  But  at  last  we  went 
to  sleep. 

After  a  few  hours  we  awakened  just  before 
the  dawn.  The  night  concert  had  ceased 
and  the  silence  could  almost  be  felt.  We 
plunged  into  the  creek  for  a  bath,  and  just 
as  we  emerged  from  the  water  the  sun 
shot  his  first  messengers  of  gray  over   the 


176  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

t 
eastern  edge  of  the  world.  Then  you  should 
have  heard  the  morning  concert  break  forth 
like  a  band  of  a  thousand  pieces. 

The  owl  and  the  whip-poor-will  were 
silent ;  but,  bless  your  souls !  you  should  have 
heard  the  meadow  lark  trying  to  ruin  his 
voice  on  the  high  notes.  You  should  have 
heard  dear  old  "  Bob  White  "  whistling  for 
dear  life,  evidently  under  the  impression  that 
he  was  an  animated  fife.  Robin  Redbreast, 
screaming  for  joy,  probably  thought  he  was 
a  cornet  or  a  trombone.  Redbird,  too,  tried 
to  burst  his  throat  in  his  effort  to  convince 
the  world  that  he  was  a  flute,  but  above  all 
came  the  marvellous  voice  of  the  conductor. 
He  played  all  the  instruments  from  the  fife 
to  the  trombone,  and  so  exquisite  was  his 
music  that  the  very  sun  himself  seemed  to 
hasten  forward  to  catch  even  the  softest 
notes  of  the  mocking-bird.  No  man  knows 
how  much  happiness  there  is  in  the  world 
till  he  hears  the  birds  of  the  wildwood  sing 
at  dawn. 

We  travelled  along  for  two  or  three  days 
without  adventure,  but,  on  the  evening  of  the 
third  day,  dark  clouds  began  to  gather  in 
the  southwest.     The  day  had  been  terribly 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  177 

hot,  and  the  air  was  so  still  that  it  seemed  to 
be  dead,  save  for  fitful  gusts  of  wind  that  came 
and  went  at  times,  like  the  flight  of  a  bat. 

"  We'll  have  a  terrible  storm  to-night," 
said  Balser,  "and  it  will  come  up  pretty 
quickly.     Let's  halt  and  unhitch." 

"  I'm  agreed,"  said  I,  and  we  drew  rein  in 
the  open,  as  far  as  possible  from  a  tree. 
Trees,  it  is  said,  draw  lightning,  and  we 
knew  that  the  fireworks  of  heaven  would 
soon  begin. 

We  hitched  and  fed  the  horses,  then  pre- 
pared our  bed  inside  the  wagon.  Near  us 
was  a  low-growing  thorn  bush  covered  with 
a  dense,  tangled  mass  of  wild  grape  vines. 
At  first  we  thought  of  sleeping  under  it, 
but  we  changed  our  minds  and  concluded 
to  use  it  as  a  shelter  for  our  fire. 

Soon  after  we  had  eaten  supper  the  wind 
began  to  rise.  The  lightning  in  the  black 
clouds  to  the  southwest  played  vividly,  and 
the  thunder  roared  as  if  it  were  a  genie  try- 
ing to  frighten  the  earth.  When  the  rain 
began,  we  climbed  into  the  wagon.  For  a 
time  we  listened  to  the  fierce  patter  on  our 
canvas  wagon  top,  but  sleep  soon  claimed 
us,  and  for  our  ears  the  storm  was  still. 


178  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  we  were 
awakened  by  the  howling  of  wolves.  Our 
first  thought  was  of  the  horses,  so  we  seized 
our  guns,  that  hung  just  beneath  the  top  of 
the  wagon,  and  climbed  out  into  the  storm. 
The  vine-covered  thorn  bush  had  protected 
our  fire  from  the  rain,  and  the  wind  had 
fanned  the  logs  into  a  blaze. 

When  we  climbed  down  from  the  wagon, 
we  saw  a  doe,  with  a  fawn  at  her  side,  standing 
panting  between  us  and  the  fire,  not  five  feet 
from  the  horses.  Three  or  four  yards  from 
the  wagon  stood  two  wolves.  By  the  light 
of  the  fire  we  saw  the  dim  outlines  of  their 
forms,  and  at  intervals  we  heard  their  half- 
muttered  growls.  We  also  saw  their  eyes 
gleaming  with  reflected  light  like  red-hot 
embers.  The  doe  did  not  offer  to  run  when 
she  saw  us.  She  had  brought  her  fawn  to 
us  for  protection  against  the  wolves. 

You  may  doubt  this  story,  but  long  after 
that  night,  Gordon  Cumming,  a  great  African 
hunter,  had  the  same  experience  with  a  fright- 
ened eland,  and  tells  of  it  in  his  wonderful 
book.  I  lifted  my  gun  and  fired  at  the  em- 
ber-like eyes.  One  wolf  dropped,  and  the 
other  quickly  took  himself  off.     The  panting 


'•  She  had  come  ro  its  for  proi  hi  ion  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  179 

doe  remained  by  the  horses  till  morning,  and 
left  us,  bearing  away  with  her,  I  hope,  a  bet- 
ter opinion  of  mankind  than  she  had  ever 
before  enjoyed. 

The  next  evening  we  reached  Cincinnati, 
but  we  did  not  enter  the  city  until  the  follow- 
ing morning,  preferring  to  camp  out  and  save 
the  cost  of  lodging  and  meals. 

We  went  to  the  fur  dealer  to  whom  we 
had  been  directed,  and  sold  our  furs  for  the 
enormous  sum  of  three  hundred  and  forty 
dollars.  Being  rich,  we  went  to  Longworth's 
famous  tavern  and  took  a  room.  We  had  a 
fine  dinner  at  noon,  and  after  we  had  eaten, 
and  had  counted  our  gold  at  least  twenty 
times,  we  started  out  to  see  the  city. 

We  purchased  a  few  presents  for  the  folks 
at  home,  and  after  great  deliberation,  we  each 
bought  a  silver  watch,  costing  us  twenty 
dollars  apiece.  That  silver  watch  was  the 
most  beautiful  object  I  had  ever  possessed, 
and  with  it  in  my  pocket,  I  wanted  to  know 
the  time  at  least  every  three  minutes. 

After  we  had  seen  the  sights  of  the  city,  we 
went  down  to  the  Ohio  River.  There  we 
saw  boats  moored  to  the  wharf,  and  learned 
that  some  of  them  were  about  to  start  down- 


180  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

stream  with  their  load  of  freight.  We  also 
learned  that  these  freight  boats  stopped  at  the 
various  settlements  along  the  river,  and  that 
bit  of  information  put  a  thought  into  our 
minds  upon  which  we  quickly  acted.  We 
engaged  passage  on  a  keel  boat  that  would 
leave  in  an  hour  or  two  ;  then  we  went  back 
to  the  tavern  and  wrote  letters  home  to  our 
folks,  telling  them  that  we  intended  to  go 
down  the  river  and  might  be  away  from  home 
several  weeks.  You  may  be  sure  we  did  not 
mention  Wyandotte's  treasure,  and  the  word 
"  cave  "  did  not  appear  upon  the  pages  of  our 
letters. 

We  paid  our  bill  at  the  tavern,  slung  our 
guns  over  our  shoulder,  left  our  money, 
horses,  and  wagon  in  the  care  of  the  tavern 
keeper,  hurried  down  to  the  wharf,  and  went 
aboard  the  boat,  destined  for  the  lower  river 
and,  perchance,  Wyandotte's  cave. 

The  slow-going  boat  moved  tediously  from 
town  to  town,  and  while  the  "  hustlers  "  — 
pronounced  "  hoosier "  by  the  negroes  and 
natives  —  were  unloading  the  freight  at  the 
various  settlements,  Balser  and  I  moved 
about  among  the  people,  asking  every  one 
we  met  if  there  was  a  cave  in  the  vicinity. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  181 

Many  persons  laughed  at  us,  and  one  man 
asked  us  if  we  were  hunting  treasure.  His 
remark  disgusted  us.  Our  inquiries  failed  to 
elicit  any  information  of  a  cave ;  and  after  a 
long,  tedious  trip,  we  reached  the  city  of 
Louisville,  but,  so  far  as  we  knew,  we  were 
no  nearer  Wyandotte's  cave  than  when  we 
left  home. 

We  seemed  so  far  away  from  Cincinnati 
that  we  felt  like  returning ;  but  after  discuss- 
ing the  matter,  we  concluded  to  take  another 
boat  and  go  still  farther  down  the  river  for 
four  days'  journey.  If,  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
we  learned  nothing  of  a  cave,  we  would  make 
our  way  back  to  Cincinnati,  and  would  at 
least  have  had  the  pleasure  of  the  river  voyage. 

After  leaving  Louisville  our  boat  stopped 
at  several  settlements,  but  we  heard  no  en- 
couraging news  until  one  day  we  drew  up  at 
a  little  nest  of  houses  on  the  north  side  of  the 
river,  thirty  or  forty  miles  below  Louisville. 
We  had  asked  so  many  questions  about  caves 
that  we  had  grown  to  expect  a  negative  an- 
swer ;  but  at  the  settlement  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken,  we  were  told  that  there  was  a 
large  cave  six  or  eight  miles  to  the  north  and 
east. 


i82  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

We  were  almost  overcome  by  sudden  and 
unexpected  joy,  and  hurried  back  to  the  boat 
to  fetch  our  guns. 

We  remained  at  the  settlement  a  day  or 
two  before  we  found  any  one  who  could  direct 
us  to  the  cave ;  but  we  finally  discovered  an 
old  man  who  told  us  to  go  north  till  we  came 
to  a  creek,  and  to  follow  it  for  six  or  seven 
miles  till  we  reached  the  third  house  on  the 
south  side  of  the  creek.  We  would  then  be 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  cave,  he  said,  and 
would  be  able  to  learn  its  exact  location.  He 
had  never  been  there,  but  he  had  heard  from 
others  that  the  creek  was  three  or  four  miles 
north  of  the  Ohio  River,  and  that  the  cave  was 
six  or  seven  miles  to  the  east. 

Balser  and  I  bought  provisions  sufficient 
to  last  us  two  weeks,  shouldered  our  guns,  and 
started  out  to  hunt  for  Wyandotte's  cave, 
having  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  in  our  minds 
that  we  would  find  it. 

We  started  out  one  morning  early,  and  after 
climbing  over  several  very  impracticable  hills, 
reached  the  creek  and  then  turned  east- 
ward, following  its  winding  course.  After 
many  hours'  hard  work,  we  came  to  the  third 
cabin  on  the  south  side  of  the  creek.     We 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  183 

entered  and  asked  the  usual  questions  con- 
cerning the  cave.  We  had  propounded  them 
so  often  that  we  knew  them  by  rote  and  spoke 
them  parrot-like. 

A  woman  at  the  house  told  us  to  go  south, 
to  cross  two  hills  and  two  ravines,  and  upon 
the  north  side  of  the  third  hill,  she  said,  she 
thought  we  would  find  a  cave.  She  was  not 
sure  a  cave  was  there,  but  she  had  been  told 
that  runaway  negroes  from  Kentucky  some- 
times hid  in  a  cave  that  was  said  to  be  in  the 
heart  of  the  hill.  She  told  us  they  called  it 
"  Nigger  Hill." 

The  woman  invited  us  to  stay  for  dinner, 
and  while  we  were  eating  she  asked  us  why 
we  wanted  to  see  the  cave.  I  thought  she 
could  not  fail  to  see  the  word  "treasure" 
written  on  my  face.  Balser,  who  was  much 
quicker  of  wit  than  I,  spoke  up  briskly  and 
said :  — 

"  We  heard  that  runaway  slaves  sometimes 
hide  in  a  cave  about  here,  and  we  have  been 
sent  to  get  its  exact  location." 

"  Then  I  am  sorry  I  told  you  where  it  is," 
said  the  woman,  "  for  I  pity  the  poor  slaves." 

"Oh,  so  do  we,"  returned  Balser,  hurriedly  ; 
"  we  would  help  them  if  we  could." 


184  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  You'd  better  not  let  any  one  hereabouts 
hear  you  say  that  you  would  help  a  run- 
away slave,"  suggested  the  woman.  "You 
would  be  tarred  and  feathered." 

"  Oh,  we  wouldn't  help  them,"  said  Balser, 
floundering  about  in  his  effort  to  correct  his 
mistake.  "  You  see  it's  this  way.  We  —  we 
—  well,  you  know  we're  sorry,  and  the  people 
who  sent  us  here  are  just  curious  to  know 
what  the  cave  is  like,  that's  all." 

After  dinner  we  started  south  for  three 
hills  and  two  ravines.  Over  one  hill  we 
climbed  and  down  into  ravine  number  one. 
Up  hill  number  two,  down  ravine  number 
two,  and  then  we  looked  up  the  rocky  side  of 
hill  number  three. 

"  If  there  isn't  a  cave  in  that  hill,"  said  I, 
"  there  ought  to  be." 

"  If  there  isn't  one  there,"  answered  Balser, 
"  there  isn't  a  cave  any  place.  What  a  barren 
pile  of  gray,  forbidding  rocks  it  is.  Tom 
Andy  Bill,  we're  at  Wyandotte's  cave  just  as 
sure  as  you  live." 

"  I  hope  you're  right,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish  you 
could  feel  my  heart  beating." 

"Just  feel  this,"  said  Balser,  placing  my 
hand  over  his  heart. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  185 

"  Shades  of  Columbus,  sit  down,  Balser ! 
Your  heart's  going  to  burst !  " 

Excited  ?  Well,  you  should  have  seen  us  ! 
We  were  trembling  as  if  with  fear.  There 
didn't  seem  to  be  enough  atmosphere  in  all 
the  country  around  to  fill  the  requirements 
of  my  lungs.  We  could  feel  the  soft,  oily 
gold  trickling  through  our  fingers,  and  I 
almost  felt  like  reaching  out  my  hand  and 
picking  up  one  of  the  five  treasure  chests. 

We  had  received  seventeen  beautiful  double 
eagles  for  our  furs  at  Cincinnati,  and  had 
counted  them  over  and  over  in  our  room  at 
Longworth's  tavern  until  I  believe  I  should 
have  recognized  any  one  of  them  a  hundred 
miles  away  from  home.  In  fondling  the 
double  eagles,  we  had  learned  to  know  the 
"  feel  "  of  gold ;  but  what  a  pitiful  sum  three 
hundred  and  forty  dollars  was  compared  to 
the  treasure  that  awaited  us  in  the  heart  of 
the  stony  hill. 

"  I  feel  sorry  for  myself,"  said  Balser,  "  when 
I  think  of  how  large  that  little  pile  of  gold 
looked  to  us." 

"Dorit  you  ?  "  I  answered.  "  Let  us  give  it 
to  the  poor." 

You  see  I  was  getting  to  feel  rich.     My 


186  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

dreams  were  becoming  real,  and  I  felt  that 
the  treasury  at  Washington  was  poverty- 
stricken  compared  to  myself. 

Balser  laughed  and  said,  "  Perhaps  we  had 
better  keep  the  Cincinnati  gold  until  we  find 
the  treasure  and  get  it  home." 

"  All  right,"  said  I ;  "  here  goes  for  the 
cave  and  Wyandotte's  chests." 

We  pretended  to  laugh  at  ourselves,  but 
the  truth  is,  we  knew  that  the  treasure  would 
soon  be  ours.  We  bent  our  backs  and  started 
up  the  rocky  hill,  each  bearing  his  sack  of 
provisions  slung  over  his  shoulder.  When 
we  got  halfway  up  the  hill,  we  halted  at  an 
overhanging  rock. 

"  Here  is  a  fine  place  to  make  our  camp," 
I  suggested.  "  We  can  build  our  fire  under 
the  south  end  of  the  rock  and  make  our  beds 
under  the  north  end,  where  we'll  be  safe  from 
sun,  wind,  or  rain." 

"  It's  the  very  place,"  said  Balser.  "  We'll 
gather  a  lot  of  rocks  and  build  a  little  wall 
reaching  from  the  ground  to  the  overhanging 
rock,  and  we  will  have  as  cosey  a  home  as 
one  could  want." 

The  top  of  the  hill  was  covered  with  trees 
and  we  felt  sure  we  should  be  able  to  gather 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  187 

material  for  firewood  and  torches.  We  de- 
posited our  bags  of  provisions  under  the  rock, 
and  Balser  was  for  starting  out  at  once  in 
search  of  the  cave.  I  insisted  upon  building 
the  walls  of  our  house  first,  but  he  wisely  sug- 
gested that  we  might  find  the  cave  that  very 
afternoon,  and  in  that  case,  we  could  move 
in  and  save  ourselves  the  work  of  building 
the  wall. 

It  was  four  or  five  o'clock  when  we  started 
out  with  beating  hearts  to  find  the  cave.  I 
was  so  sure  of  finding  it  at  once  that  I 
watched  carefully  where  I  stepped,  for  fear, 
I  suppose,  of  falling  into  it. 

We  prowled  about,  examining  every  nook 
and  corner  among  the  rocks,  till  after  six 
o'clock.  Then  we  went  to  the  hilltop  and 
each  took  an  armful  of  wood  down  to  our  new 
home  under  the  hanging  rock.  The  weather 
was  warm,  so  we  postponed  our  wall  build- 
ing till  the  morrow,  lay  down  under  the  rock, 
and  went  to  sleep. 

During  the  next  five  or  six  days  we  tramped 
over  the  hillside  in  the  blazing  sun,  working 
fifteen  or  sixteen  hours  a  day,  but  we  found 
no  cave.  By  noon  of  the  seventh  day,  we 
felt  that  every  rock  in  the  hillside  had  been 


188  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

examined,  and  our  hearts  were  heavy  with 
disappointment,  for  we  were  ready  to  be 
sworn  that  no  cave  existed  on  that  hilL  Our 
seventeen  double  eagles  at  Cincinnati  grad- 
ually rose  to  par,  and  when  we  had  despaired 
of  rinding  the  cave,  they  increased  in  value 
till  they  once  more  looked  like  a  fortune. 
We  concluded  that  we  would  not  give  them 
to  the  poor  —  yet. 

After  eating  dinner  on  the  day  we  gave  up 
our  search,  we  sat  for  a  while  under  the 
rock,  anxious  yet  loath  to  leave.  Our  fire 
was  built  under  the  south  end  of  the  rock, 
perhaps  fifteen  feet  from  where  we  were  sit- 
ting. Almost  unconscious  of  what  I  was 
doing,  I  threw  several  light  pieces  of  wood 
on  the  fire,  and  soon  a  great  blaze  sprang  up. 

I  have  before  remarked  upon  the  wonderful 
potency  of  little  things,  and  that  act  of  mine 
in  carelessly  tossing  the  wood  upon  the  fire  is 
another  marked  illustration  of  what  I  mean. 

We  were  sitting  watching  the  fire  when 
Balser,  for  lack  of  anything  else  to  say,  re- 
marked carelessly :  — 

"  I  wonder  what  makes  that  fire  suck  in 
toward  the  wall." 

"  Probably  the  wind  blows  it,"  I  suggested. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  i8g 

"  But  there's  not  a  breath  of  wind,"  said 
Balser. 

I  stepped  outside  to  test  the  wind.  There 
was  not  enough  to  flutter  a  maple  leaf.  Still 
the  leaping  flames  bent  toward  the  inner  wall 
of  our  house  as  if  they  were  sucked  in  that 
direction  by  a  draught.  The  effect  was  so 
pronounced  that  we  began  to  look  around 
for  an  opening  in  the  rock.  We  had  never 
thought  to  examine  our  own  house  for  the 
cave.  At  the  extreme  south  end  of  our 
overhanging  rock,  near  the  fire,  was  a  large 
boulder  that  we  supposed  formed  the  end 
of  the  little  open  cavern  in  which  we  dwelt. 
It  was  toward  that  boulder  the  flames  were 
drawn,  and  Balser  and  I  made  a  dash  for  it. 
Just  beyond  the  boulder,  plain  as  an  open 
door,  was  the  entrance  to  a  cave. 

"  Well,  I  am  a  fool,"  said  Balser. 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  I  answered,  "  but 
what  am  I  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  said  Balser ;  "  and  I  wish 
mother  didn't  object  to  swearing." 

"  Amen,"  answered  I.  "  Here  we  have 
been  prowling  about  this  hill  in  the  hot  sun 
for  nearly  seven  days,  hunting  for  something 
that  was  right  under  our  noses." 


190  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  That  happens  to  many  a  man,"  said  Bal 
ser.     u  We  needn't  worry  about  the  work  we 
have  done.     Let  us  go  into  the  cave." 

We  stooped  low  and  entered.  Within  ten 
feet  of  the  opening  we  passed  into  a  high- 
vaulted,  dimly  lighted  chamber.  We  waited 
for  our  eyes  to  become  accustomed  to  the 
gloom,  and  then  we  proceeded  to  look  about. 

"  By  George !  "  whispered  Balser,  as  if  he 
were  afraid  that  some  one  might  hear  him ; 
"this  room  is  just  as  Wyandotte  described 
it." 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  I  answered ;  "I  do  be- 
lieve we  have  stumbled  into  the  god's  home. 
Isn't  it  the  most  marvellous  thing  that  ever 
happened  ?  " 

When  we  could  distinctly  see  objects 
about  us,  we  began  our  search  for  the 
treasure,  but  the  floor  was  of  unbroken 
rock  and  the  side  walls  were  smooth.  Ten 
minutes'  work  convinced  us  that  there  was 
no  treasure  in  that  cave. 

We  had  noticed  a  small  opening  in  the 
back  of  the  chamber,  and  we  felt  sure  it  led 
to  the  main  cavern  or  caverns,  since  Wyan- 
dotte had  said  there  were  many  chambers 
and  corridors. 


IS    WYANDM-ITJ     DKSCKIHKO    II '!'    WHISPERED    BaLSKR  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  191 

We  remembered  what  he  had  told  us 
about  the  danger  of  getting  lost,  but  we 
classed  that  with  the  wolves  and  the  guar- 
dian demons,  and  gave  no  heed  to  his  warn- 
ing. The  second  opening  was  too  low  for 
us  to  pass  through  even  by  stooping.  We 
examined  it  and  found  that  the  floor  con- 
sisted of  a  flat  rock  inclining  downward  at 
a  very  steep  angle. 

We  did  not  stop  to  consider  that  Wyan- 
dotte might  have  been  wrong  in  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  cave,  or  that  the  cave  we  were  in 
might  not  have  been  the  one  he  described. 
For  all  we  knew,  there  might  have  been  a 
bottomless  pit  at  the  end  of  the  little  chute; 
but  we  were  intoxicated  with  our  dreams  of 
gold,  and  took  no  thought  of  possible  danger 
ahead. 

I  looked  down  the  slanting  passageway, 
but  I  could  see  nothing  but  darkness.  The 
fact  that  I  did  not  know  where  I  was  going 
to  land  did  not  deter  me.  I  put  my  feet 
into  the  narrow  chute,  lay  down  on  my  back, 
and  worked  myself  forward. 

The  inclining  rock  was  covered  with  mois- 
ture, and  was  so  "slick  "  that  I  started  down 
at  a  much  greater  speed  than  I  had  antici- 


192  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

pated.  When  it  was  too  late,  I  began  to  won- 
der where  I  was  going  to  land,  and  visions  of 
a  bottomless  pit,  broken  bones,  and  a  linger- 
ing death  flashed  through  my  mind.  They 
were,  however,  soon  dispelled,  for  in'  less 
than  three  seconds  I  had  accomplished  my 
descent,  and  found  myself  sitting  safely  in 
a  little  pool  of  very  cold  water  at  the  foot 
of  the  incline.  I  felt  about  me  with  my 
hands  and  discovered  a  solid  rock  floor 
similar  to  that  of  the  first  cavern. 

"  Hello,  Tom  Andy  Bill ! "  shouted  Balser. 

I  answered  back,  "  All  right !  Come  on ! " 
and  the  next  instant  Balser  was  sitting  in 
the  cold  water. 

The  second  cavern  was  much  darker  than 
the  first,  but  a  faint  stream  of  light  entered 
through  the  narrow  chute,  and  in  a  little 
while  we  could  dimly  see  objects  close  to  us. 

"  We'll  have  to  have  torches  to  examine 
this  cave,"  said  I.  "  We  can't  see  anything 
in  this  Egyptian  darkness." 

"  If  we  prowl  about  without  a  light,"  said 
Balser,  "  we're  apt  to  find  ourselves  at  the 
bottom  of  a  hole  and  stay  there.  Let's  go 
out  and  get  torches  before  going  further." 

I  started  to  climb  back  over  the  slick  in- 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  193 

cline,  and  although  it  was  not  over  fifteen 
feet  from  the  bottom  to  the  top,  I  failed  to 
make  it.  If  I  made  a  little  headway,  I  im- 
mediately slipped  back.  At  first  we  laughed, 
and  Balser  tried  the  ascent ;  but  after  we  had 
each  failed  many  times,  we  began  to  be 
frightened.  The  incline  was  much  steeper 
than  we  had  supposed  it  to  be. 

We  struggled  frantically  in  our  effort  to 
climb  out,  and  soon  we  were  almost  ex- 
hausted by  excitement,  fear,  and  exertion. 
Trembling  and  drenched  with  perspiration, 
we  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  incline,  and  in 
our  hearts  we  cursed  the  treasure  that  had 
led  us  into  this  trouble.  For  a  time  we  could 
hardly  speak.  The  obstacle  to  be  overcome 
was  so  small,  but  the  task  of  overcoming  it 
was  so  great,  that  we  were  in  despair.  The 
thought  of  dying  there,  fifteen  feet  from  light 
and  life,  was  maddening. 

Suddenly  Balser  began  to  laugh  and  I 
thought  he  was  going  mad.  I  took  his  hand 
to  comfort  him,  and  he  said :  — 

"Tom  Andy  Bill,  I  s'pose  that  two  such 
fools  as  you  and  I  are  were  never  before 
turned  loose  upon  the  world." 

"  I  hope  you're  right,"  said  I ;  "it  would 


194  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

be  a  terrible  infliction  on  the  world  if  there 
were  many  like  us,  for  we  certainly  were 
great  fools  to  get  ourselves  into  this  scrape." 

Balser  laughed  again  and  said :  "  Nonsense, 
Tom  Andy  Bill,  we're  all  right.  We'll  be 
out  of  here  in  a  minute.  Listen  to  my  plan. 
I  say  we  are  fools  because  we  had  not  thought 
of  it  before.  It  is  not  more  than  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  to  the  top  of  this  inclined  rock. 
I'll  start  up.  You  push  my  feet  till  I  get  a 
hold  on  the  dry  rock  above.  Then  I'll  turn 
around,  head  down,  and  pull  you  out." 

"  Good,"  said  I.  "  Balser,  you're  no  fool, 
whatever  I  am.  I  should  have  rotted  here 
before  thinking  of  your  plan." 

Our  spirits  went  up  at  once,  and  we  ceased 
to  find  any  fault  with  the  treasure  for  having 
brought  us  to  the  cave. 

Balser  stretched  himself  in  the  chute,  and 
I,  bracing  my  feet  upon  the  floor  below, 
pushed  him  upward.  All  went  well  for  a 
time,  and  we  thought  we  should  soon  be 
out  of  our  difficulty ;  but  when  we  were  both 
stretched  at  full  length  upon  the  slippery 
inclined  rock,  we  stopped  in  our  ascent. 
Balser  could  not  reach  the  dry  rock  at  the 
top,  therefore  he  could  not  draw  himself  up. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  19s 

After  a  terrific  struggle  of  five  minutes, 
I  could  hold  him  no  longer.  I  took  my 
hands  from  his  feet,  and  we  both  slid  back 
into  the  pool  of  water.  Then  we  were 
in  trouble.  I  would  have  given  anything 
to  be  a  girl  for  five  minutes;  I  wanted  to 
cry. 

We  were  so  tired  that  we  stepped  back 
from  the  mouth  of  the  chute,  feeling  our  way 
cautiously  as  we  went,  and  sat  down  on  the 
dry  rock  floor  a  short  distance  away  from  the 
pool  of  water.  After  sitting  there  for  a  few 
minutes,  I  happened  to  place  my  hand  on 
the  floor  and  found  that  it  was  covered  with 
a  fine  gritty  sand.  Then  it  was  that  /con- 
ceived a  brilliant  idea. 

"  There's  sand  on  the  floor,  Balser,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  dolefully ;  "  I  don't 
care  if  it's  gold-dust.  What  I  want  is  to 
get  out  of  this  awful  place ;  and  if  I  once 
get  out,  I  wouldn't  come  back  for  all  the 
wealth  of  the  world." 

"The  sand  is  more  valuable  to  us  than 
gold-dust,"  I  said.  "  We'll  sprinkle  it  over 
the  slippery  rock,  and  then  we'll  be  able  to 
go  up  easily  enough." 

No  sooner  had  I  spoken  than  Balser  was 


196  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

filling  his  cap  with  the  sand.  I  did  likewise, 
but  when  we  began  to  toss  it  on  the  rock,  I 
suggested :  — 

"  Let  us  try  to  wipe  some  of  the  moisture 
from  the  rock,  and  then  we'll  sprinkle  on  the 
sand." 

I  took  off  my  jacket  and  proceeded  to  dry 
the  rock  with  it  as  well  as  I  could,  and  then 
we  sprinkled  it  with  sand.  After  that  we 
easily  climbed  out,  as  thankful  a  pair  of  boys 
as  lived  in  all  the  world. 

We  hurried  to  the  outer  opening,  and  al- 
though the  sunlight  almost  blinded  us,  it 
looked  so  sweet,  tasted  so  sweet,  and  smelled 
so  sweet  that  we  wanted  to  hug  it  to  our 
breasts  and  kiss  it. 

"  No  more  gold  for  me,"  said  Balser. 

"  Nor  for  me,"  I  answered.  "  I  don't  want 
anything  better  than  pelts.  I'm  going  home, 
and  any  man  that  wants  the  treasure  may 
have  it  if  he  can  get  it." 

We  were  very  tired,  and  Balser  looked  as 
though  he  had  been  through  an  attack  of 
sickness.  After  resting  awhile,  we  built  a 
fire  and  ate  our  supper. 

We  did  not  care  to  start  back  home  at 
nightfall,  so  we  concluded  to  sleep  under  the 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  197 

rock  one  more  night  and  make  an  early  start 
in  the  morning. 

When  we  turned  in,  I  got  to  thinking  of 
home  and  soon  became  so  homesick  that  I 
wanted  to  cry. 

After  two  or  three  efforts  to  speak,  I  said, 
"  I  wonder  what  mother  is  doing  at  home." 

"Oh,  don't!"  cried  Balser.  "I'd  give 
Wyandotte's  treasure,  if  I  had  it  right  now, 
to  see  mother.  Oh!  wouldn't  I  just  kiss 
her?" 

Despite  my  efforts,  tears  began  to  come  to 
my  eyes,  and  I  tried  to  whistle.  I  might  as 
well-  have  tried  to  thunder. 

"  I  don't  care  who  knows  I  want  to  cry," 
sobbed  Balser. 

"  Neither  do  I,"  I  replied,  and  after  that  I 
suppose  we  both  shed  a  few  tears  and  were 
very  much  comforted.  Women  don't  know 
what  a  luxurious  privilege  they  enjoy.  Our 
nerves  were  overwrought  by  the  terrible  expe- 
rience we  had  undergone,  and  we  had  never 
before  been  so  long,  or  so  far,  away  from  home. 
Our  nervous  condition  made  the  homesick- 
ness all  the  harder  to  bear ;  but  the  boy  of 
sixteen  who  cannot  cry  because  he  wants  to 
see  his  mother  is  lacking  in  the  stuff  that 


198  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

goes  to  make  the  right  kind  of  a  man. 
Sleep  soon  overcame  us,  and  by  morning  we 
were  feeling  much  better. 

While  we  were  eating  breakfast,  Balser 
remarked :  — 

"  It  does  seem  a  shame,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  to 
go  away  without  that  gold  when  we  almost 
have  it  in  our  hands.  We  are  over  the 
worst  of  the  difficulties.  We  have  solved 
the  problem  of  the  chute.  But  I  have  a 
plan  that  will  make  the  ascent  of  that  slip- 
pery rock  as  simple  as  a,  b,  c.  We'll  cut  a 
pole  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  long,  and  by  the 
help  of  the  pole  we  can  climb  in  and  out 
without  any  trouble." 

I  was  delighted  with  the  suggestion,  and 
we  at  once  went  to  the  top  of  the  hill  with 
our  hatchet,  where  we  felled  a  small  tree 
that  answered  our  purpose.  First  I  tried 
the  descent  of  the  chute  and,  by  the  help  of 
the  pole,  easily  climbed  out.  That  problem 
settled,  we  prepared  torches  and  started  for 
the  treasure  in  real  earnest. 

After  we  had  passed  the  chute,  we  lighted 
our  torches  from  fire  we  had  taken  in  with 
us  and  illumined  the  entire  chamber.  All 
that  day  we  spent  in  examining  the  cave,  but 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  199 

no  sign  of  a  possible  hiding  place  for  the 
treasure  chests  could  be  found.  The  next 
day  we  found  other  chambers  of  the  cavern 
and  carefully  examined  them. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  second  day's  search 
we  discovered  a  passageway  leading  to  a 
very  large  cavern.  When  we  entered  it,  we 
could  not  see  the  ceiling  by  the  light  of  our 
torches,  but  we  could  distinctly  see  the  lower 
ends  of  great  hanging  pillars,  called  stalactites, 
that  hung  down  to  within  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet  of  the  floor.  Springing  from  the  floor 
to  meet  these  hanging  columns  were  others 
varying  in  height  from  two  to  fifteen  feet. 
It  was  all  like  a  scene  from  fairyland,  for  the 
rock  was  of  white  crystal,  and  glistened  like 
millions  of  diamonds  in  the  light  of  our 
torches. 

Leading  from  and  through  this  marvellous 
chamber  were  many  corridors  that  wound  in 
and  out  among  the  columns  like  the  paths 
of  a  labyrinth.  Frequently  we  thought  we 
were  lost,  and  for  fear  that  catastrophe  might 
happen,  we  blazed  our  path  by  smoking  the 
rocks  with  our  torches,  so  that  we  should  be 
able  to  find  our  way  out  again. 

After  we  had  admired  the  wonderful  scene, 


200  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

we  began  a  careful  examination  of  the  cham- 
ber and  of  all  the  corridors  and  caves  open- 
ing into  it.  Not  a  square  foot  of  floor  did 
we  leave  unexamined ;  not  a  spot  where  the 
treasure  could  possibly  be  hidden  did  we  fail 
to  investigate.  We  found  no  openings  nor 
chamber  other  than  those  we  had  entered  and 
inspected,  and  after  a  hard  day's  work  we 
gave  up  the  search.  Balser  looked  at  his 
watch  and  said  it  was  five  o'clock. 

"  There's  no  treasure  here,"  said  he,  regret- 
fully, "but  I  am  glad  we  came.  We  have 
been  rewarded  for  our  trouble  by  the  sight 
of  this  wonderful  cave." 

"  I  believe  we  have  examined  every  square 
foot  of  it,"  I  answered.  "  There  are  no  more 
caves  to  be  conquered.  I  think  there  is  not 
a  spot  in  all  these  rooms  that  we  have  not 
gone  over  a  dozen  times.  This  is  not  Wyan- 
dotte's cave,  or  he  lied  about  the  treasure. 
The  old  fellow  was  drunk  when  he  told  us 
the  story." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  his  cave,"  said  Balser. 
"  We'll  find  the  right  cave  one  of  these  days, 
and  we'll  get  the  treasure,  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
just  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Balser." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  for  perhaps  the  hundredth 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  201 

time,  "  I  hope  you're  right,  but  we  have  no 
more  business  here,  so  let  us  get  out  and  go 
home." 

We  took  up  our  smoke  trail  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  finding  our  way  back  to  the  exit 
from  the  room  we  had  christened  "  The  Mar- 
ble Chamber."  Just  as  we  stooped  to  pass 
under  the  low  arch  of  the  doorway,  we  heard 
back  of  us,  in  the  darkness,  a  whirring  noise 
not  unlike  that  made  by  a  strong  wind  blow- 
ing through  a  leafless  forest.  The  noise  in- 
creased rapidly  and  was  most  uncanny  in  its 
effect.  It  frightened  us,  but  before  we  could 
learn  the  cause,  we  were  struck  from  behind 
as  if  by  a  shower  of  small  stones.  Our 
torches  were  dashed  from  our  hands  and  we 
were  thrown  to  the  ground.  Our  lights  were 
instantly  extinguished,  and  the  noise  contin- 
ued for  perhaps  thirty  seconds. 

After  it  had  ceased  and  as  we  lay  upon  the 
floor  of  the  cavern,  Balser  said :  — 

"  Bats !  I  saw  them  by  thousands  cling- 
ing to  the  roofs  and  walls  of  the  cave." 

He  was  right.  Thousands  of  bats  congre- 
gated in  the  cave  during  the  daylight  and 
flew  out  in  great  flocks  when  evening  ap- 
proached.     The     explanation    was     simple 


202  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

enough,  but  the  result  was  far  from  simple 
for  Balser  and  me.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  realized  what  total  darkness  meant. 

We  sat  where  we  had  fallen,  and  every  few 
minutes  the  whirring  noise  passed  over  us. 
It  seemed  that  we  had  suddenly  dropped 
from  heaven  into  a  terrible  inferno.  After  a 
short  time  the  noise  ceased,  and  we  knew 
that  the  bats  had  all  gone  out  for  the  night. 
We  supposed  that  it  was  dark  outside.  We 
rose  to  our  feet  and  began  to  grope  around 
to  find,  if  possible,  the  passageway  leading 
out.  Of  course  our  smoke  trail  was  of  no 
use  to  us  in  the  dark.  Life  of  me,  how  black 
it  was ! 

We  could  not  find  the  outgoing  corridor. 
Several  times  we  thought  we  had  found  it, 
but  we  invariably  came  up  against  a  stone 
wall.  We  had  been  in  great  trouble  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  slippery  chute,  but  now 
we  were  in  utter  despair.  Our  heads  got 
many  a  hard  bump,  and  we  learned  the  les- 
son to  "  make  haste  slowly."  We  kept  a 
firm  grasp  on  each  other's  hands,  for  had  we 
become  separated  we  might  not  have  been 
able  to  get  together  again.  The  reverberat- 
ing echoes  of  our  voices  were  misleading,  and 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  203 

we  should  have  had  little  chance  of  finding 
each  other  by  calling  out,  were  we  once  parted. 

I  gripped  Balser's  hand  so  hard  that  he 
cried  out  in  pain,  but  you  never  saw  two 
boys  stick  closer  together  than  we  did  in  the 
black  heart  of  that  awful  rock.  If  we  must 
die,  we  would  die  together,  and  I  tell  you,  it 
looked  very  much  as  though  that  fate  were 
in  store  for  us. 

After  bruising  ourselves  in  every  bone  and 
muscle,  we  gave  up  the  fruitless  search,  sat 
down  on  the  floor  to  rest,  and  tried  to  com- 
pose ourselves.  We  had  been  in  the  cave 
a  long  while  and  were  very  tired. 

"  How  long  do  you  suppose  we  have  been 
here  since  the  torches  went  out?  "  asked  Bal- 
ser. 

"  I'm  blest  if  I  know,"  I  answered,  "but  it 
has  surely  been  eight  or  ten  hours.  Perhaps 
it  has  been  more." 

We  lay  down  and  tried  to  sleep.  I  remem- 
ber that  we  lay  very  close  together,  and  while 
we  were  trying  to  go  to  sleep,  Balser  said :  — 

"  You  won't  leave  me,  will  you,  Tom  Andy 
Bill?" 

And  I  said,  "  No,  and  you  won't  leave  me, 
will  you,  Balser  ?  " 


204  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

He  grasped  my  hand  in  answer,  and  shut- 
ting our  eyes  we  again  tried  to  sleep.  We 
lay  on  the  floor  for  a  long  while,  but  sleep 
would  not  come  to  us.  We  had  no  way  of 
knowing  the  time,  but  we  supposed  that  we 
had  rested  several  hours  when  the  whirring 
noise  that  had  preceded  and  accompanied 
our  trouble  again  approached. 

"Just  think  of  it,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  said 
Balser,  "the  bats  are  going  out  again.  It 
is  twenty-four  hours  since  they  knocked  us 
down.  It  seems  like  a  month.  I'm  almost 
choked  with  thirst,  and  I'm  so  hungry  that 
I'm  weak." 

I  will  not  try  to  describe  the  horror  of  that 
time.  All  the  suffering  of  my  life  cannot  be 
compared  with  what  I  endured  in  the  cave. 

"  My  legs  are  cramped,  and  I  am  going  to 
move  about,"  said  Balser. 

Then  we  got  up  and  groped  about  the 
cavern  for  exercise.  We  had  lost  nearly  all 
hope.  After  wandering  about  the  chamber 
for  a  long  time,  we  lay  down  again,  and 
finally  sleep  came  from  sheer  exhaustion.  Of 
course  we  did  not  know  how  long  we  slept, 
but  on  awakening,  we  again  heard  the  whir- 
ring noise  over  our  heads. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  205 

"  Good  Lord !  The  bats  are  going  out 
again  for  the  night !  "  said  Balser.  "  We  have 
been  here  forty-eight  hours.  At  first  I  was 
afraid  we  would  die,  but  now  I  am  afraid  we 
will  noC 

Again  we  rose  and  groped  our  way  about 
the  room.  After  what  seemed  a  long  while, 
we  rested  again,  and  after  a  weary  waiting 
we  once  more  heard  the  whirring  noise.  We 
had  lost  all  trace  of  time,  but  judging  by  the 
flight  of  the  bats,  we  supposed  that  we  had 
passed  three  days  in  the  cave. 

We  felt  so  weak  for  lack  of  food  and  sleep 
that  we  could  hardly  walk.  At  periods  of 
every  few  hours,  as  we  supposed,  we  moved 
about  in  the  darkness  for  exercise. 

At  last,  in  one  of  these  hopeless  wander- 
ings, we  suddenly  caught  a  faint  glimmer  of 
light.  Ah,  the  joy  of  it!  In  five  minutes' 
time  we  were  climbing  through  the  slippery 
chute,  and  within  two  minutes  more  we  were 
out  in  the  glad  daylight.  The  gloaming  was 
just  turning  to  night,  but  compared  to  the 
darkness  of  the  cave,  we  felt  as  if  we  were 
looking  into  the  full  glare  of  the  midday  sun. 

"  I  must  have  water,"  said  Balser,  who  was 
hoarse  from  weakness  and  thirst. 


206  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

While  he  was  drinking  I  mechanically 
drew  out  my  watch  and  looked  at  it. 

"Say,  Balser,  my  watch  is  still  running," 
said  I,  "and  I  haven't  wound  it  since  we 
went  into  the  cave." 

He  drew  his  watch  from  his  pocket  and 
said  :  "  So  is  mine.  Surely  it  could  not  have 
kept  going  for  three  days,  and  I  didn't  once 
think  of  it  in  the  cave." 

Then  we  looked  at  each  other  and  began 
to  laugh,  for  it  was  only  seven  o'clock,  and 
we  had  been  lost  in  the  cave  just  two  hours. 
I  wasn't  nearly  as  hungry  or  thirsty  or  weak 
when  I  found  how  we  had  been  fooled  re- 
garding the  time  spent  in  the  cave. 

"  I  was  actually  so  weak  from  hunger  and 
thirst,"  said  Balser,  "that  I  could  hardly 
stand  alone." 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I. 

Well,  we  were  mighty  glad  to  get  out, 
but  two  boys  more  thoroughly  disgusted 
with  themselves  than  Balser  Brent  and  Tom 
Andy  Bill  Addison  didn't  live  at  that  par- 
ticular moment  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

We  had  no  hope  of  finding  Wyandotte's 
treasure  in  that  cave,  so  we  left  next  morn- 
ing and  made  our  way  back  to  Cincinnati, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  207 

where  we  arrived  in  due  time,  wiser  if  not 
richer  boys  than  when  we  left. 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  the  trip  home  to-mor- 
row evening  if  I  don't  go  to  church,"  said 
Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill. 

"You'll  tell  us,  too,  about  the  girl  you 
found,  won't  you  ? "  asked  Mab. 

"  Yes,  I'll  tell  you  about  her,  too." 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    ROBBERS    IN   THE   SWAMP 

Next  evening  Mab  settled  herself  down 
very  close  to  our  story-teller  and  said :  — 

"  Well,  Uncle  Tom,  I'm  glad  you  didn't 
go  to  church  to-night,  but  I  hope  no  one 
will  knock  you  down  for  not  going." 

A  murmur  of  laughter  started  over  the 
audience,  but  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill  raised 
his  hand  warningly,  and  it  was  smothered. 
No  one  should  laugh  at  Mab  when  she  was 
in  earnest.  The  baby  girl  had  a  keen  sense 
of  humor,  but  it  never  found  expression  save 
in  words  that  were  literally  true.  Neither  did 
she  expect  anything  but  the  exact  truth  from 
others.  The  result  was  that  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill  and  a  great  many  very  good  and 
discerning  persons  worshipped  at  her  little 
shrine.  After  she  had  settled  herself  in  her 
tiny  chair,  and  had  spread  her  little  skirts 
contentedly,  she  looked  up  to  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill  and  said :  — 

208 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  209 

"  Now."  That  word  was  the  tinkling  bell 
that  raised  the  curtain,  and  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill  began. 

THE    STORY 

The  morning  after  Balser  and  I  reached 
Cincinnati  we  received  our  money  in  a 
canvas  shot-bag  from  the  tavern  keeper, 
placed  it  in  a  flour-sack  along  with  the  pres- 
ents for  the  folks  at  home,  hitched  up  the 
horses,  and  started  for  Blue  River.  The 
wagon  was  light,  and  the  horses  having  had 
a  long  rest  in  the  stable,  we  travelled  home- 
ward at  a  brisk  rate. 

No  adventure  befell  us  until  the  second 
evening,  when  we  were  about  halfway  home. 
At  the  rate  we  travelled,  we  should  have 
been  home  on  the  evening  of  the  second 
day,  and  should  have  missed  the  adventure, 
the  results  of  which  have  affected  my  life 
even  down  to  this  present  moment,  had  we  not 
stopped  at  a  little  town  called  Napoleon  to 
witness  a  circus  performance.  But  we  did 
stop,  and  that  small  incident,  as  I  have  told 
you,  has  colored  my  whole  life. 

The  circus  threw  us  one  day  behind,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  second  day  we  drew  up  in  a 


2io  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

drizzling  rain  in  front  of  an  old,  rambling,  two- 
story  brick  house  that  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
deserted  by  mankind  and  appropriated  by  a 
family  of  ghosts.  Thinking  the  house  was 
unoccupied,  we  concluded  to  camp  in  it  for 
the  night;  but  after  looking  at  it  for  a  moment, 
it  seemed  so  lonesome  and  "  haunted  like  " 
that  we  were  about  to  drive  on,  when  an  old 
woman  came  to  the  door  and  said :  — 

"  'Light,  strangers.  'Light  and  come  in ! 
You're  very  welcome,  and  it's  going  to  be  a 
bad  night.  It's  ten  miles  to  the  nearest 
house." 

"  Let  us  go  in  and  stay  for  the  night,"  sug- 
gested Balser. 

"  I'm  agreed,"  said  I,  so  we  stopped. 

While  we  were  unhitching  the  horses,  a 
young  girl  perhaps  fourteen  years  old  came 
out  and  proceeded  to  help  us.  Balser  and  I 
gazed  at  her  in  wonder.  Despite  the  coarse 
rags  that  served  her  as  clothing,  despite  her 
unwashed  face  and  unkempt  hair,  she  was 
beautiful  beyond  description.  Her  hair  was 
like  a  black  sunlit  cloud  tossed  by  the  caress- 
ing wind.  Her  great  violet  eyes,  fringed  by 
long  black  lashes  and  arched  by  pencilled  eye- 
brows, fairly  shone  with  the  lustre  of  health 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  211 

and  the  glow  of  her  soul.  Her  exquisite  face, 
with  its  dark,  rosy  complexion,  was  of  a  type 
frequently  met  with  under  the  blue  skies  of 
Italy,  but  seldom  found  in  this  cold  clime. 

When  the  horses  were  unhitched,  the  girl 
led  one  of  them  to  the  stable,  and  I  followed, 
leading  the  other. 

"  Put  your  horse  in  that  stall,"  she  said, 
"  and  I'll  put  this  one  here." 

I  answered  like  a  yokel,  "  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Shall  I  give  them  corn  ?  "  she  asked,  and 
again  I  said,  "  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  They'll  want  water,  I  suppose,"  she  sug- 
gested. Again  I  responded  brilliantly,  "  Yes, 
ma'am." 

"  There's  a  bucket  just  outside  the  door 
and  the  pump  is  at  the  end  of  the  barn.  You 
get  the  water  and  I'll  get  the  corn.  Six  ears 
apiece  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  I. 

When  I  returned  with  the  water,  she  was 
waiting  to  feed  the  horses.  While  they  were 
drinking  I  stood  by  her  side,  trying  very  hard 
to  think  of  something  to  say,  but  I  failed,  and 
grew  more  and  more  embarrassed  as  the  silence 
continued.  The  girl  was  as  composed  as  the 
horses.     After  a  long  silence,  she  said  :  — 


212  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  You  needn't  call  me  ma'am.  I'm  just 
Mab."  She  smiled,  and  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
though  very  young,  got  his  life  sentence  then 
and  there. 

The  girl  and  I  talked  for  a  while  at  the 
barn.  We  didn't  say  much,  but  little  as  it 
was,  I  don't  intend  to  tell  you  about  it.  She 
had  the  knack  of  making  others  feel  easy  in 
her  presence,  and  by  the  time  we  got  to  the 
house,  I  had  told  her  my  name  and  the  names 
of  all  my  relatives,  where  I  lived,  where  we 
had  been,  and  all  I  knew  that  my  con- 
fusion would  permit  me  to  recall.  In  fact,  we 
were  quite  well  acquainted. 

When  we  entered  the  house,  we  found, 
besides  the  old  woman,  an  old  man  and  two 
other  men  who  might  have  been  any  age  from 
forty  to  sixty.  The  old  woman  offered  chairs 
and  Balser  and  I  sat  down.  The  old  man 
said  "  Howdy  ?  "  but  the  other  men  arose  and 
left  the  room  without  speaking. 

Soon  after  the  two  men  had  left,  the  old 
man  turned  to  me  and  said  :  — 

"  B'en  to  Cincinnati,  have  ye  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Like  as  not  ye  took  a  load  o'  furs  down 
about  four  weeks  ago." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  213 

I  assented,  and  the  old  man  continued :  — 

"  Seed  ye  drive  by  and  'lowed  ye'd  be  back 
by  and  by." 

We  did  not  answer,  and  after  a  brief  silence 
the  old  man  again  commenced  his  catechism  : 

"  I  'low  ye  got  a  good  bit  o'  money  fer  the 
furs.     I  seed  ye  had  a  fine  load  of  'em." 

"  Yes,"  answered  outspoken  Balser,  u  we 
got  three  hundred  and  forty  dollars  in  gold." 

I  did  not  know  why  I  was  sorry  that 
Balser  had  spoken  of  our  gold,  but  I  was. 

"  Hope  ye  didn't  leave  the  gold  in  any  o' 
them  shaky  Cincinnati  banks,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  Indeed,  we  did  not,"  returned  Balser. 
"  We  have  it  with  us,"  and  he  produced  the 
shot-bag  from  the  flour-sack. 

When  Balser  said,  "We  have  it  with  us," 
the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  as  if  startled,  and 
I  noticed  an  anxious,  alarmed  expression  on 
her  face.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  these 
old  people  could  be  robbers;  therefore  the 
girl's  curious  little  action  passed  unnoticed, 
though  I  recalled  it  afterward.  After  Bal- 
ser's  outspoken  reference  to  the  gold,  the  old 
man  lapsed  into  silence,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  old  woman  said :  — 


214  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  Come,  Mab,  let's  git  supper.  I  expect 
these  gentlemen  are  hungry." 

Mab  followed  the  old  woman  into  the 
kitchen  and  shut  the  door.  In  a  minute 
or  two  I  heard  the  woman  speaking  angrily 
to  the  girl,  and  soon  afterward  I  saw  Mab 
galloping  away  on  the  Michigan  Road  astride 
a  horse.  In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  we 
were  called  out  to  supper,  and  when  we  had 
finished,  night  had  almost  fallen.  A  storm 
was  blowing  up  from  the  southwest,  and  the 
dim  light  of  the  gloaming  was  rapidly  giving 
place  to  inky  darkness.  The  wind  began  to 
sigh  ominously,  and  soon  the  rainfall  became 
heavier.  At  eight  o'clock  the  old  man  went 
to  bed,  and  at  half-past  eight  the  old  woman 
said  :  — 

"  I  'low  you're  tired  and  want  to  sleep." 

She  was  right,  and  we  took  kindly  to  her 
suggestion. 

"  Just  go  up  them  steps,"  she  said,  "  and 
go  into  the  room  on  the  left-hand  side.  I 
expect  ye'll  want  an  early  breakfast  so's  to 
get  an  early  start." 

We  told  her  that  we  wished  to  get  off 
as  early  as  possible,  and  then  we  went  up- 
stairs to  bed,  Balser  carrying  the  flour-sack 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  215 

into  which  we  had  put  the  gold,  and  I  lead- 
ing the  way  with  an  old  tallow  dip  that  gave 
about  as  much  illumination  as  two  lightning 
bugs. 

After  supper  I  had  watched  for  the  girl, 
though  I  had  not  seen  her. 

There  was  one  window  in  our  room  from 
which  two  or  three  panes  of  glass  were  lack- 
ing, and  immediately  outside  the  window 
stood  a  walnut  tree  whose  branches  grew 
very  close  to  the  house.  Although  we  were 
tired,  we  did  not  go  to  sleep  at  once,  but  lay 
awake  listening  to  the  drizzling  rain,  and 
receiving  a  splash  now  and  then  through  the 
half-glazed  window. 

An  hour  or  two  passed  tediously,  during 
which  I  slept  as  they  say  a  weasel  sleeps, 
with  one  eye  open.  Balser  was  asleep  and 
I  was  growing  drowsy  when  I  heard  the 
splash  of  horse's  hoofs  in  the  road,  and  was 
instantly  wide  awake.  Then  I  heard  the 
bars  of  the  barnyard  fall  and  soon  the  barn 
door  opened.  In  a  minute  or  two  it  closed. 
Then  the  door  of  the  kitchen  opened  and 
closed,  and  I  knew  the  girl  had  returned. 
I  could  not  help  wondering  why  she  had 
been  out  in   the  storm  at  that  hour  of  the 


216  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

night,  but  I  had  grown  too  sleepy  to  think 
much  about  anything. 

Soon  after  the  kitchen  door  had  opened 
and  closed,  I  fell  into  a  light  sleep,  but  I  was 
immediately  awakened  by  a  soft  footfall  on 
the  stairway,  as  if  some  one  were  approaching 
our  door  stealthily  in  bare  feet.  Before  I 
was  fully  awake  the  door  of  our  room  opened 
noiselessly,  and  a  voice  which  I  at  once 
recognized  as  Mab's,  whispered  :  — 

"  Don't  speak." 

She  quickly  ran  over  to  our  bed  and 
placed  her  lips  close  to  my  ear.  Her  warm 
breath  against  my  cheek  was  like  an  electric 
shock,  but  she  gave  me  no  time  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  it. 

In  a  hurried  whisper,  she  said :  "  Four 
armed  men  will  be  here  in  less  than  five 
minutes  to  take  your  gold.  You  must  pre- 
tend to  sleep.  If  they  know  you  are  awake, 
they  will  kill  you  and  your  friend,  and  will 
bury  you  in  the  quagmire  in  the  swamp. 
They  have  often  buried  men  alive  there.  It 
has  no  bottom,  and  the  bodies  never  come  up 
if  once  they  sink.  If  the  men  learn  that  you 
are  awake,  your  friends  will  never  know  your 
fate." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  217 

"  Can  we  escape  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  answered.  "  If  you  try, 
they  will  overtake  you  and  kill  you.  But 
even  if  you  had  any  chance  of  escaping,  there 
is  not  time  to  try.  There  they  come  up  the 
stairs.  Listen.  Go  to  sleep  and  I'll  get 
under  the  bed." 

The  girl  had  hardly  disappeared  under  the 
bed  when  the  door  opened  and  four  men,  one 
of  whom  bore  a  tallow  dip,  entered  the  room. 
The  man  with  the  dip  approached  our  bed. 
My  eyes  were  closed,  but  I  could  distinguish 
the  light  through  my  eyelids.  I  was  desper- 
ately afraid  that  Balser  would  awaken.  Their 
visit  was  short.  In  less  than  half  a  minute 
they  were  gone,  and  I  knew  that  our  precious 
bag  of  gold  had  gone  with  them.  I  sat  up 
in  the  bed  and  put  my  feet  over  the  side. 

"  Sh  ! !     Lie  down  !  "  whispered  the  girl. 

I  lay  down  again,  for  I  felt  that  Mab  was 
our  friend,  and  I  was  sure  that  she  knew 
what  was  best  for  us.  Soon  I  heard  a  door 
shut  downstairs,  and  then  the  girl  came  out 
from  her  hiding-place.  Again  she  put  her 
lips  to  my  ear,  and  said  :  — 

"  Make  no  disturbance,  or  you  will  never 
leave  here  alive.     To-morrow  the  old  man 


218  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

and  the  old  woman  will  pretend  to  be  in 
great  trouble  because  robbers  broke  into  the 
house  and  stole  money  from  their  guests. 
The  old  woman  will  tell  you  that  her  money 
also  was  stolen.  If  you  seem  to  agree  with 
her,  you  will  be  allowed  to  leave  in  safety. 
If  you  let  her  think  that  you  suspect  her 
and  the  old  man,  you  will  die  before  noon. 
Don't  waken  your  friend,  but  let  him  think 
you  were  asleep  when  the  gold  was  stolen, 
and  encourage  him  to  believe  that  the  old 
man  and  the  old  woman  know  nothing 
of  it.  Don't  tell  him  what  I  have  told 
you.  I  would  not  trust  him,  but  I  do  trust 
you." 

Then  a  wonderful  thing  happened.  She 
kissed  me  on  the  forehead,  and  glided  from 
the  room  as  noiselessly  as  a  shadow. 

Thoughts  of  her  drove  all  remembrance 
of  the  gold  from  my  mind,  and  I  lay  in  a  sort 
of  ecstasy,  dreaming  open-eyed  about  her. 
In  the  midst  of  my  longing  to  see  her  again, 
she  returned.  Again  she  placed  her  lips  to 
my  ear,  and  whispered :  — 

"  I  know  you  are  brave.  If  you  want  to 
recover  your  gold,  I'll  take  you  to  the  house 
of  the  robbers  in  the  swamp.     We  will  risk 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  219 

our  lives,  but  I'll  go  with  you  if  you  wish 
to  try  it." 

"  I  do  wish  to  try,"  said  I,  seizing  her 
hand. 

"  When  you  hear  an  owl  hooting  under 
your  window,  come  out  to  the  barn  and  bring 
your  friend.  Climb  out  through  the  window 
and  down  the  walnut  tree." 

Again  she  left  the  room,  and  I  awakened 
Balser.  I  briefly  told  him  in  a  whisper  what 
had  happened,  and  we  at  once  rose  and 
dressed.  We  lifted  the  window,  and  after 
waiting  a  long  time  for  the  signal,  an  owl 
hooted;  then  we  climbed  to  the  ground  by 
way  of  the  walnut  tree.  We  found  the  girl 
waiting  for  us,  and  we  all  went  to  the  barn. 
When  she  felt  safe  in  speaking,  she  said  in 
low  tones :  — 

"  I  notified  the  robbers  that  you  were  here 
and  that  you  had  gold.  Old  Polly  made  me 
do  it.  They  would  have  killed  me  if  I  had 
refused,  so  I  rode  away  at  supper  time,  and 
it  was  I  who  brought  them  upon  you.  But 
I  don't  care  what  they  do ;  I  would  rather 
die  than  have  this  on  my  soul.  I  will  take 
you  to  the  house  in  the  swamp  and  show  you 
where  the  gold  is  hidden.     You  can  take  it, 


220  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

and  I  will  lead  you  out  from  the  swamp. 
They  will  know  I  helped  you,  and  I  will  tell 
them  that  I  did.  Then  they'll  kill  me,  but  I 
want  to  die  anyway." 

She  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  entered 
the  barn  and  presently  came  out  leading  a 
horse. 

"  You,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  ride  behind  me," 
she  said.  "  We  will  get  the  gold.  Let  your 
friend  wait  with  your  two  horses  just  inside 
the  woods  a  little  way  up  the  road.  You 
will  need  fresh  horses  when  we  return." 

Balser  objected  to  being  left  behind  and 
insisted  on  going  with  Mab  and  me. 

"  We  have  but  three  horses  —  this  one  and 
your  two,"  said  the  girl.  "  If  you  ride  one  of 
your  horses,  you  will  have  but  one  fresh  one 
for  a  hard,  long  ride  when  we  come  back,  and 
I  tell  you,  you  will  need  two,  and  need  them 
badly.  You  don't  know  these  men.  They 
are  The  Wolves.  They're  not  men,  they're  . 
devils."  Then  she  grew  angry  and  continued  : 
"  You  listen  to  me  and  do  as  I  say.  I'm  giv- 
ing my  life  to  undo  the  wrong  I  did,  and  — 
and  I  tell  you,  you  must  do  as  I  say,  or  I'll 
throw  my  life  away  for  nothing !  " 

She  lowered  the  bars,  put  one  foot  on  a 


"At  timks  she  allowed  the  horse  to  rest" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  221 

rail  of  the  fence,  sprang  to  the  horse's  back, 
leaned  down  toward  me,  and  whispered :  — 

"  Get  up  behind  me,  Tom  Andy  Bill." 

I  obeyed,  and  the  next  instant  we  were 
slowly  passing  the  house,  going  eastward 
toward  the  swamp.  She  guided  the  horse  to 
the  sod  by  the  roadside  to  avoid  the  noise  of 
his  hoofs  on  the  gravel  roadway.  When  we 
were  a  short  distance  from  the  house,  she 
struck  the  horse  with  her  heels,  and  away  we 
went  at  full  gallop. 

Presently  I  said  :  "  Let  me  ride  in  front 
and  you  behind.  I'm  ashamed  to  ride  this 
way." 

"  You  don't  know  the  road,"  was  her  only 
reply. 

At  times  she  allowed  the  horse  to  rest,  but 
she  kept  up  a  rapid  gait  for  the  greater  part 
of  half  an  hour.  Then  she  left  the  road  and 
turned  into  a  black  forest.  After  entering 
the  woods  we  were  compelled  to  travel  in  a 
walk,  and  the  panting  horse  was  not  sorry. 
How  the  girl  kept  the  path  I  have  never 
known,  for  the  night  was  so  dark  that  I  could 
not  see  even  the  back  of  her  head,  though 
her  soft  hair  was  constantly  lashing  me  in 
the  face. 


222  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Soon  I  heard  the  splashing  of  our  horse's 
hoofs  in  the  water,  and  I  knew  we  were  enter- 
ing the  swamp.  After  a  little  while  the  girl 
slid  from  the  horse  and  led  it.  I  was  too 
much  of  a  man  to  ride  while  the  girl  was  wad- 
ing through  the  swamp,  leading  the  horse,  so 
I  slid  off  and  came  with  a  splash  to  the 
ground. 

"  Do  you  want  to  ruin  us  ?  "  she  whispered. 
"  These  trees  have  ears.  The  path  through 
the  swamp  is  narrow,  and  on  each  side  there 
is  a  bottomless  quagmire." 

She  took  my  hand,  and  we  proceeded  on 
our  perilous  journey.  In  ordinary  circum- 
stances I  should  have  been  frightened,  for  I 
never  was  very  brave ;  but  the  girl  was  so 
fearless  that  she  gave  me  courage. 

After  we  had  been  wading  through  the 
swamp  perhaps  fifteen  minutes,  she  said : 

"  We'll  soon  be  on  the  island.  Don't  speak 
above  a  whisper,  and  a  low  whisper  at  that. 
Do  exactly  as  I  say  and  don't  doubt  me." 

When  we  reached  the  dry  land,  she  tied  the 
horse  and  took  my  hand.  The  forest  was 
very  dense,  and  the  darkness  was  like  a  patch 
of  black  paint.  When  she  had  hitched  the 
horse  she  took  my  hand,  and  whispered :  — 


\ 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  223 

"  The  house  is  close  by.  All  the  doors  and 
windows  are  of  thick  oak  and  are  fastened  by 
bars  inside.  If  the  night  was  warm,  a  win- 
dow might  be  open,  and  I  might  climb  in  and 
get  the  gold ;  but  the  storm  has  made  it  cool, 
and  I  am  afraid  the  house  will  be  locked  and 
barred.  If  it  is,  I'll  arouse  them  and  take  the 
men  away  from  the  house  on  some  excuse 
while  you  are  hiding. 

"  When  I  take  the  men  to  the  barn,"  she 
continued,  "you  go  in  the  house  by  the  front 
door;  keep  straight  ahead  till  you  reach  the 
stairs;  go  up  the  steps  and  turn  in  at  the 
door  to  your  right.  In  the  opposite  right- 
hand  corner  of  the  room  there  is  a  large 
iron-bound  oak  chest.  Near  it  is  Granny 
Wolf's  bed,  and  under  her  pillow  is  the  key 
to  the  chest.  The  gold  is  in  the  chest. 
The  powder,  too,  is  kept  there  to  protect  it 
from  rats.  You  will  awaken  Granny,  for  she 
sleeps  like  a  weasel,  but  she  is  a  little  deaf 
and  can't  distinguish  voices  well.  So  the 
best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  shake  her,  and 
tell  her  that  you  are  Con,  and  that  you  want 
to  get  some  powder.  Tell  her  that  Mab  has 
come  back  with  news  of  another  rich  haul 
down  at  Polly's. 


224  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  You  get  the  gold,  lock  the  chest,  and  give 
Granny  the  key.  Then  you  go  back  to 
where  we  left  the  horse,  and  I'll  meet  you 
there  soon  as  I  can.  Don't  try  to  go  through 
the  swamp  without  me,  or  you  will  surely  fall 
into  the  quagmire.  I'll  come  if  I  live.  If 
The  Wolves  discover  the  trick  I  have  played 
them,  we  will  both  die;  that  is  certain. 
There  are  five  men  and  two  women.  Now, 
you  understand.  When  the  men  leave  the 
house  with  me,  you  go  in  at  the  front  door. 
Go  straight  ahead  to  the  stairs,  and  when 
you  get  to  the  top,  enter  the  door  at  the 
right,  and  get  the  gold  as  I  have  told  you. 
Now  let's  go  to  the  house  and  try  to  get  in 
without  awakening  them." 

Two  hundred  steps  brought  us  to  the 
house.  While  we  were  going  there,  Mab 
called  my  attention  to  the  path,  so  that  I 
should  be  able  to  find  my  way  back  to  the 
horse.  When  we  reached  the  house,  we 
walked  around  it,  trying  each  window  shutter 
in  the  hope  of  finding  one  unlocked.  We 
had  made  the  entire  circuit,  and  were  at  the 
front  door,  when  we  heard  a  voice  from  an 
upper  window  call  out :  — 

"Who's  there?  Answer  quick,  or  I'll 
shoot ! " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  225 

"  It's  Mab  !  "  cried  the  girl.  At  the  same 
moment  she  pushed  me  back  toward  a  bush 
that  grew  by* the  doorstep,  and  I,  taking  the 
hint,  crept  under  the  branches.  I  confess 
that  I  was  terribly  frightened.  You  must 
remember  I  was  only  a  boy  of  sixteen.  The 
girl  was  two  or  three  years  younger  than  I, 
but,  in  a  real  emergency,  a  woman  is  usually 
braver  than  a  man.  When  the  man  called 
from  the  window,  the  girl  answered  in  a  voice 
without  a  tremor  :  — 

"  It's  Mab !  Are  you  all  dead  in  there  ? 
I've  been  trying  for  ten  minutes  to  wake  you 
up.  You're  a  pretty  lot  of  thieves  to  keep 
watch.  The  lawyers  "  (meaning  the  officers 
of  the  law)  "  might  have  burned  the  house 
about  your  ears,  and  you  wouldn't  have  known 
the  difference.  I'm  getting  tired  of  this.  I've 
made  two  trips  over  here  in  the  rain,  and  now 
you  keep  me  waiting  out  here  all  night, 
soaking  wet,  while  you  snooze  away  like 
'possums.  It's  the  last  time  I'll  ever  come  to 
tell  you  about  a  haul." 

"  Don't  grumble,  Mab ;  I'll  let  you  in,"  an- 
swered the  voice  from  above. 

She  stepped  to  the  front  door  and,  as  she 
passed   me,  she   touched   me,  saying,  "  Lie 

Q 


226  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

still."  In  a  moment  I  heard  the  clanking  o\ 
chains  and  the  rumbling  of  bars  within,  and 
immediately  afterward  the  door  opened. 

"  What  is  it,  Mab  ? "  asked  the  man. 

The  girl  stood  at  the  door  and  I  heard  her 
say:  — 

"  There's  a  load  of  groceries,  and  cloth,  and 
everything,  Polly  says,  down  at  the  house. 
They  came  in  soon  after  you  left." 

"  How  many  men  are  there  ?  "  asked  one 
of  The  Wolves. 

"  There  are  three  men  and  a  boy,  and  all 
are  asleep,"  answered  Mab.  "  Polly  drugged 
them.  They  have  two  fine  horses,  and  six 
guns,  and  lots  of  ammunition,  Polly  says. 
Besides,  Polly  says  she  thinks  they  have  some 
money." 

"  Is  their  stuff  in  the  house  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  men. 

"  No,"  answered  Mab  ;  "  they  left  every- 
thing in  the  wagon  at  the  barn,  so  you 
needn't  go  into  the  house  to  get  the  plunder. 
Polly  says  for  you  just  to  hitch  the  horses  to 
the  wagon  and  pull  out  with  it.  Polly  talked 
to  the  men  while  they  were  eating  supper." 

"  What  time  did  they  come  ?  "  asked  a 
woman  who  had  joined  the  men  at  the  door. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  227 

"  About  twelve  o'clock,  I  reckon,"  answered 
Mab.  "  They  got  us  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  to  feed  them.  Polly  says  she  thinks 
they're  drugged  all  right,  but  she  says  for  all 
of  you  to  come  over.  The  three  men  and  the 
two  boys  that  are  already  there  might  wake 
up  and  give  you  an  ugly  fight  if  there  are 
only  two  or  three  of  you,  so  Polly  says  for  all 
of  you  to  come  well  armed,  and  to  hurry.  It 
must  be  almost  two  o'clock  now." 

By  the  time  the  girl  had  finished  telling 
her  story,  the  other  men  of  the  house  had 
joined  her  at  the  front  door.  Immediately  I 
heard  a  great  bustle  within  the  house,  and 
soon  the  girl  came  out,  with  five  men  follow- 
ing her. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  stable  to  get  the 
horses  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  Where's  yourn  ?  "  answered  one 
of  the  men. 

"  Oh,  I've  got  him  right  down  here.  I'll 
go  on  ahead,  and  if  anything's  wrong  when  I 
get  to  the  house,  I'll  warn  you,"  answered 
the  girl. 

A  woman  went  to  the  barn  with  the  men, 
and  when  they  were  out  of  sight,  I  knew  that 
Granny  was  alone  upstairs ;  so  I,  frightened 


228  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

nearly  to  death,  but  acting  on  bravery  bor- 
rowed from  the  girl,  boldly  went  in  at  the 
front  door,  felt  my  way  to  the  stairs,  and 
noiselessly  went  up.  After  groping  about,  I 
found  the  door  to  the  right  and  entered. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  asked  Granny 
from  her  bed. 

"  It's  Con,"  said  I,  hoarsely.  "  I  want 
some  powder.  There's  a  great  haul  down 
at  Polly's.  Mab  brought  the  word  just 
now." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  all  about  it.  Sally  told  me. 
Here's  the  key,"  answered  Granny  Wolf. 

I  took  the  key  from  her  hand  after  grop- 
ing about  in  the  dark  for  it,  and  then  tried 
to  find  the  chest.  Of  course  I  got  into  the 
wrong  corner,  and  when  I  found  that  I  had 
lost  my  way  in  the  room,  my  heart  beat  so 
violently  that  I  feared  even  the  deaf  old 
Granny  might  hear  it.  After  a  little  time 
she  asked :  — 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  over  in  that 
corner  ?     Lost  in  the  dark  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.     "  Where's  the  light?  " 

"  Light  ? "  screamed  the  old  hag,  angrily. 
"  It  will  be  morning  before  you  get  the 
powder   if  you  wait   to   strike  a  light  from 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  229 

the  tinder  box  this  damp  night!  Give  me 
the  key ! " 

I  heard  her  getting  out  of  bed,  and  I 
thought  my  day  —  or  my  night  —  had  come. 

"  Where  are  ye  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Here,"  I  answered. 

She  found  me  and  I  gave  her  the  key.  I 
heard  her  unlock  the  chest,  and  I  heard  the 
lid  fall  back  against  the  wall. 

"  How  many  horns  do  ye  want  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  I'll  get  them,"  I  answered. 

I  collided  with  her  as  she  was  going  back 
to  bed,  but  I  immediately  found  the  chest. 
It  was  perhaps  three  and  a  half  feet  high.  I 
leaned  over  and  felt  among  the  contents  for 
our  precious  bag.  My  hand  came  in  con- 
tact with  all  manner  of  things.  There  were 
boxes,  bundles,  bags,  and  powder-horns  by 
the  score.  Everything  seemed  to  be  in  the 
chest  but  our  bag  of  gold.  I  was  almost 
ready  to  run  away  without  it,  when  my  hand 
found  a  sack  tied  about  the  neck  with  a 
string.  It  was  much  too  small  for  our  flour- 
sack,  but  it  seemed  too  large  and  heavy  for 
our  gold  bag.  However,  I  grasped  the 
puckered    end,   lifted   it   out   of  the    chest, 


230  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

slammed  the  lid,  turned  the  key,  gave  it  to 
Granny,  and  hurried  away  as  fast  as  my  legs 
would  carry  me.  My  life,  but  I  was  glad  to 
get  out  of  that  front  door ! 

How  I  found  my  way  back  to  the  horse, 
I  don't  know.  Fright  must  have  sharpened 
my  instinct,  and  I  found  the  horse,  I  suppose, 
as  a  lost  dog  finds  its  way  home  without 
knowing  how  it  does  it.  When  I  got  back 
to  where  the  horse  was  standing,  my  teeth 
were  chattering  so  that  I  thought  surely 
I  should  waken  the  entire  swamp.  My 
knees  smote  together,  and  for  a  time  I  had 
to  cling  to  *the  horse  for  support.  I  had 
used  up  all  the  courage  I  had  borrowed 
from  the  girl,  and  she  was  not  there  to  lend 
me  more. 

I  have  always  suffered  more  or  less  from 
cowardice,  but  that,  I  believe,  was  the  worst 
attack  I  ever  had.  You  see  there  was  no  one 
to  witness  my  weakness,  and  you  have  no 
idea  how  much  the  desire  to  show  off  and 
the  fear  of  ridicule  has  to  do  with  a  man's 
bravery  when  it  comes  to  action.  Many  a 
man  who  is  a  coward  at  heart  will  drive  him- 
self to  do  a  brave  deed  in  the  presence  of 
others.     That  night  I  was  brave  only  when 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  231 

the  girl  was  by  my  side.  A  touch  from  her 
hand  strengthened  my  nerves,  and  in  the 
light  of  her  eyes  I  could  have  fought  a 
thousand  dragons. 

I  had  waited  perhaps  five  minutes  beside 
the  horse  —  and  they  were  long  ones,  you 
may  be  sure  —  when  I  heard  the  tramping 
of  horses'  hoofs  and  the  voices  of  men  ap- 
proaching from  the  direction  of  the  house. 
If  my  knees  had  shaken  and  my  teeth  chat- 
tered before,  imagine,  if  you  can,  the  quak- 
ing and  the  clatter  that  ensued  when  the 
men  passed  on  horseback  within  twenty  feet 
of  me. 

"  Where's  Mab  ? "  I  heard  one  of  them 
ask. 

"  I  reckon  she's  gone  ahead,"  answered 
another.  A  moment  later  I  heard  the 
splashing  of  their  horses'  hoofs  in  the 
swamp. 

When  I  saw  the  men  pass  ahead  of  us,  I 
thought  surely  Mab  and  I  were  lost,  and  I 
trembled  for  Balser's  safety.  He  would  be 
waiting  in  the  woods  beyond  the  house,  near 
the  road,  and  I  feared  he  might  return  to 
the  barn  when  we  failed  to  show  up.  The 
men  were  now  between  Balser  and  me,  and 


232  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

how  I  was  to  pass  them  and  reach  him,  I 
did  not  know. 

While  I  was  wondering  and  trembling, 
the  girl  came  up  to  me. 

"  We'll  wait  here  a  few  minutes  and  then 
we'll  follow  them,"  she  said,  coming  close 
to  me  and  whispering. 

The  first  thing  I  did  after  she  came  to  me 
was  to  borrow  some  of  her  inexhaustible 
fund  of  courage.  I  negotiated  a  big  loan, 
but  she  seemed  to  have  all  of  hers  left  after 
supplying  me.  Immediately  I  became  as 
brave  as  a  lion.     I  feared  nothing. 

"  Did  you  get  the  gold  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  holding  the  sack  out 
toward  her. 

"  You're  the  bravest  boy  I  ever  knew,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for 
setting  The  Wolves  upon  you.  I've  done 
my  best  to  right  the  wrong,  and  when  they 
learn  of  the  trick  I  have  played  them,  they 
will  kill  me.  They  won't  care  so  much 
about  the  loss  of  the  gold,  but,  you  see,  I 
have  betrayed  the  secret  of  their  den.  They 
have  killed  three  women  and  one  man  that 
I  know  of,  because  they  feared  they  might 
betray    the    secret    of    the    swamp   to    the 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  233 

lawyers.  They'll  bury  me  alive  in  the  quag- 
mire, but  I  don't  care  if  they  do.  I  want  to 
die.  I  can't  live  here  as  the  slave  of  these 
murderous  thieves  a  day  longer." 

"  You  shall  not  stay  here.  You  shall  go 
with  me,"  I  answered,  grasping  her  hand. 

"  You're  crazy,"  she  replied,  snatching  her 
hand  from  mine  and  unhitching  the  horse. 
She  threw  the  rein  over  the  horse's  head 
and  came  back  to  me. 

"  Here,  take  my  foot  and  give  me  a  lift," 
she  said,  holding  up  her  foot.  I  lifted  her 
to  the  horse,  and  grasping  her  by  the  hand, 
sprang  up  behind  her ;  then  she  turned  the 
horse's  head  and  soon  we  entered  the  swamp. 

The  night  was  frightfully  dark  and  rain 
was  falling  in  a  heavy  drizzle.  Ten  min- 
utes after  we  entered  the  swamp,  the  girl 
suddenly  drew  rein  and  cried,  "  Whoa ! " 
The  horse  stopped  and  I  at  once  realized 
that  it  was  sinking.  For  the  last  few  steps 
I  had  not  heard  the  splash  of  the  horse's 
hoofs  in  the  water,  and  the  awful  truth 
flashed  across  my  mind  that  the  girl  had 
missed  the  path. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of 
horror,  "  we're  on  the  edge  of  the  quagmire. 


234  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Fall  off  the  horse!  Don't  jump  off!  Fall 
on  your  side  or  on  your  back,  and  don't  try 
to  stand  on  your  feet  or  you'll  be  lost! 
You'll  sink  in  the  mud ! " 

She  fell  off  the  horse  and  I  followed  her 
lead. 

"  Do  as  I  do,"  she  said,  and  I  watched  her 
very  closely,  you  may  be  sure.  She  lay  full 
length  in  the  mud,  and  began  rolling  toward 
the  path.  Instinct  prompted  me  to  try  to 
get  on  my  feet,  but  one  effort  satisfied  me. 
I  thought  I  was  gone.  I  immediately  lay 
down  again  on  my  back  in  the  mud,  and 
with  great  difficulty  extricated  my  feet. 
When  I  had  done  so,  I  began  to  roll  toward 
the  girl.  Twice  I  thought  I  should  have  to 
abandon  my  bag  of  gold  or  sink,  but  I  clung 
to  it,  and  after  rolling  over  three  or  four 
times,  I  felt  the  strong  grasp  of  this  wonder- 
ful girl's  hand. 

"  Stand  up !  "  she  said.     "  You  are  safe." 

I  arose  and  stood  knee-deep  in  mud, 
though  my  feet  were  on  solid  ground. 

"  Here  is  the  path,"  she  said,  leading  me 
toward  it. 

"  Let  us  try  to  save  the  horse,"  I  suggested. 

"  No  power  on  earth  can  save  him,"  she 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  235 

answered.  "  Poor  fellow !  But  lets  not  stay 
to  see  his  struggles.     Come  on  !  " 

She  climbed  to  the  path,  and  we  con- 
tinued our  awful  journey  on  foot.  As  we 
walked  along,  she  took  my  hand  and  said, 
laughing  softly:  — 

"  You  clung  to  the  gold.  I  believe  you 
would  have  gone  down  rather  than  lose  it." 

"  No,  I  clung  to  it  because  I  knew  I 
could  save  it,"  I  answered. 

"  It's  not  worth  a  life,"  she  returned, 
"  though  some  lives  are  not  worth  very 
much.  Mine  isn't.  I'll  be  with  the  horse 
in  the  quagmire  before  sun-up.  I'll  save 
The  Wolves  the  trouble  of  throwing  me 
in.  When  I  see  that  you're  safe,  I'll  go 
back  and  jump  in." 

"You  will  go  with  me,"  I  answered. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  replied.  "  You  don't  know 
what  you  are  saying.  You  don't  know 
the  evil  you  would  bring  upon  yourself 
and  your  folks.  Besides,  I  don't  fear  death. 
I  want  to  die.  I  once  heard  a  man  say 
there  was  a  place  across  the  ocean  where 
people  took  mud  baths  for  rheumatism. 
Well,  you  see,  I  have  the  rheumatism,  and 
I  want  to  cure  it." 


236  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

She  laughed  softly,  dropped  my  hand, 
and  took  my  arm.  Her  laughter  in  the  face 
of  death  fascinated  me,  and  I  could  hardly 
speak.  I  had  never  before  known  a  human 
heart  of  that  quality. 

I  was  covered  with  mud,  and  she,  too, 
was  plastered  from  head  to  heels. 

"  If  any  one  were  to  see  us  now,"  she 
said,  again  laughing  softly,  "  they  would 
think  that  we  were  Adam  and  Eve,  and 
that  the  Lord  hadn't  finished  us." 

I  was  almost  ready  to  weep,  but  she  laughed 
softly  now  and  then,  and  ploughed  along 
through  the  mud  and  water  as  merrily  as  if 
she  were  going  to  a  frolic.  Once  she  started 
to  sing,  but  checking  herself,  laughed  and 
placed  her  mud-covered  hand  over  her  mouth 
to  smother  the  song.  Then  she  laughed 
outright,  for  she  had  covered  her  mouth  with 
mud.  I  began  to  doubt  my  senses  or  hers. 
Surely  these  desperate  men  would  kill  her 
for  betraying  them,  yet  in  the  face  of  a 
frightful  death,  she  laughed  and  wanted  to 
sing. 

God  fills  some  hearts  so  full  of  joyous- 
ness  and  courage  that  death  has  no  terrors 
for  them.     I  walked  beside  this  wonderful 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  237 

girl,  dumb  with  awe.  If  I  had  possessed  a 
thousandth  part  of  her  bravery,  I  would 
have  considered  myself  the  most  courageous 
man  on  earth,  but  a  long  acquaintance  with 
mankind  has  taught  me  that  bravery  of  that 
sort  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  heart  of  a 
woman. 

After  the  girl  smothered  her  song,  we 
walked  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and  at 
last  came  to  the  edge  of  the  swamp.  It 
did  seem  good  to  find  my  feet  once  more 
on  solid  earth.  When  we  reached  the  Michi- 
gan Road,  we  started  west  as  fast  as  we 
could  go  —  that  is,  as  fast  as  I  could  go. 
I  almost  ran  to  keep  up  with  the  rapid, 
swinging  gait  of  the  girl.  Of  course,  we 
had  lost  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  quag- 
mire, and  I  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that 
we  would  not  meet  the  disappointed  rob- 
bers returning.  When  they  learned  of  the 
deception  that  had  been  put  upon  them  by 
Mab,  they  would  at  once  start  back  in  search 
of  her. 

I  suggested  this  danger  to  the  girl,  and 
she  answered: — 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  they'll  learn  of  the  trick. 
I  intended  to  follow  close  at  their  heels,  and 


238  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

just  before  we  reached  the  house,  I  was 
going  to  jump  from  the  horse  and  let  you 
slip  past  and  hurry  on  down  to  your  friend, 
who  is  waiting  with  the  fresh  horses.  But 
we  have  lost  so  much  time  that  The  Wolves 
will  go  into  the  house,  and  then  they  will 
come  out  and  wait  for  us  on  the  road.  I'm 
sorry  the  field  in  front  of  the  house  is  cleared. 
If  it  was  woods,  we  could  make  a  turn  in 
among  the  trees  and  you  could  crawl  by  in 
the  shadow." 

"  But  you'll  come,  too,"  I  said. 

"  No,  no,  I  can't,"  she  answered.  "  I'm 
not  fit  to  touch  your  hand,  but  all  your  life  I 
want  you  to  remember  the  girl  that  gave 
her  life  to  save  you  and  to  undo  the  wrong 
she  had  done."    • 

"  But  you  shall  go  with  me.  You  shall 
not  stay  here  to  be  killed  by  these  brutes," 
said  I,  grasping  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  them,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  low,  soft  laugh.  "They  can 
only  kill  me,  and  they'll  do  that  quickly 
enough  if  I  don't  get  back  to  the  swamp 
ahead  of  them  and  kill  myself.  At  any  rate, 
I'll  let  them  see  that  I  do  not  fear  them. 
Just  as  soon  as  you  are  safe,   I  will  go  to 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  239 

them.  I'll  defy  them.  I'll  scorn  them,  and 
I'll  show  them  how  to  die  laughing." 

"  I'll  not  leave  this  place  without  you,"  I 
answered,  and  the  ring  of  determination  was 
in  my  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  she  replied,  coaxingly 
clinging  to  my  arm.  "  You  must.  But  listen ! 
There  they  come  on  the  gallop  right  down 
the  road !  They've  learned  the  truth  from 
old  Polly.  Lord,  but  she  must  be  mad ! 
Lie  down  in  the  ditch  !  Quick !  Quick ! 
I'll  stand  here  and  laugh  at  them !  Good 
Lord,  hear  them  swearing  and  cursing !  Lie 
down,  I  tell  you!  Quick!  quick,  or  you're 
lost !     Lie  down  in  the  ditch !  " 

The  Wolves  were  not  a  hundred  yards 
from  us. 

■  I'll  stand  till  you  lie  down,"  I  answered, 
and  she  knew  I  meant  what  I  said. 

She  fell  in  the  ditch  by  the  roadside  so 
suddenly  that  I  thought  she  had  been  struck 
down.  The  next  second  I  was  stretched  in 
the  mud  alongside  of  her,  and  ten  seconds 
later  The  Wolves  had  come  up  to  us.  We 
were  half  covered  with  mud  and  water,  and 
when  the  robbers  galloped  furiously  by,  we 
were  as  safe  from  detection  as  were  the  frogs 


240  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

we  had  disturbed.  My  life,  how  The  Wolves 
did  curse  and  blaspheme !  We  heard  them 
swearing  vengeance  against  Mab  with  every 
wicked  oath  the  evil  mouth  of  man  can 
speak.     One  fellow  said  :  — 

"  We'll  throw  the  little  devil  into  the  quag- 
mire before  morning." 

Mab  pinched  me  and  laughed  softly ;  but 
The  Wolves  had  passed,  and  the  girl's  un- 
timely merriment  cost  us  nothing.  Mab 
lifted  her  head  to  reconnoitre,  and  when  she 
saw  that  the  men  had  passed  out  of  sight, 
we  rose  from  the  ditch  and  started  down 
the  road  toward  the  house  and  Balser. 
When  we  approached  the  house,  we  saw  by  a 
dim  light  within  that  the  front  door  was  open. 

"  Some  of  The  Wolves  have  stayed  with 
Polly,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  lie  down  in  the 
gutter  on  the  side  of  the  road  opposite  the 
house  and  crawl  past.  When  you  get  be- 
yond the  barn,  you  will  be  safe.  Then  you 
must  run.  When  you  get  up  out  of  the 
ditch,  you  hoot  like  an  owl.  Then  I  will 
know  you  are  safe,  and  —  and  —  that  will  be 
our  good-by.  When  you're  gone,  I'll  go 
into  the  house  and  wait  for  The  Wolves  to 
come  after  me." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  241 

"  I'll  go  into  the  house  with  you,"  said  I, 
"  and  I'll  not  go  another  step  without  you." 

She  grasped  me  by  the  arms  and  her  voice 
trembled  as  she  said,  "  Do  you  mean  it,  you 
—  you  fool  ?  " 

"  As  true  as  there  is  a  God,  I  mean  it,"  I 
answered.  "  If  you  have  any  doubt  of  the 
truth  of  what  I  say,  enter  the  house  and  your 
doubts  will  soon  vanish.  If  you're  not  going 
with  me,  there's  no  need  to  stand  here  longer 
in  the  rain.  Let  us  go  in  and  see  Polly. 
I'll  follow  you.  Which  shall  it  be  ?  Down 
the  road  to  Balser  and  home,  or  into  the 
house  to  Polly,  The  Wolves,  and  death? 
Choose  quickly.  We  have  no  time  to 
waste." 

She  was  the  braver,  facing  our  danger  in 
the  swamp ;  but  you  see,  after  all,  I  was  the 
stronger,  and  I  beat  down  her  will  as  the 
storm  beats  down  the  wheat.  She  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  said,  "  I  choose  you,"  be- 
traying the  first  trace  of  emotion  I  had  seen 
in  her. 

"  Quick,  quick  !  "  I  said.  "  I  follow  you 
in  the  ditch  !  " 

"  No,  I  follow  you  from  now  on  till  you 
tell  me  to  stop,"  she  answered. 


242  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

I  believed  her,  so  I  fell  on  my  face  in  the 
ditch  and  began  to  crawl  through  the  mud 
and  water  past  the  house.  Mab  said  that 
we  were  having  a  baptism  of  mud.  I  would 
rather  walk  a  hundred  miles  than  crawl  that 
hundred  yards  in  the  ditch.  But  all  things 
must  end,  and  we  at  last  rose  up  from  the 
mud  and  ran  toward  the  woods  where  Balser 
was  hiding  with  the  horses.  During  all  this 
time  I  had  clung  to  the  bag  of  gold. 

We  soon  found  Balser,  and  his  first  words 
were,  "  Did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  holding  out  the  sack ; 
"  here  it  is." 

The  girl  pointed  her  finger  at  the  bag  and 
said  with  a  laugh  :  — 

"  If  he  hadn't  got  it,  you  would  never  have 
seen  him.  That  precious  bag  almost  cost 
him  his  life.  But  we  had  better  be  going  or 
The  Wolves  will  be  upon  us." 

"  We  ?  "  asked  Balser  in  surprise.  "  Are 
you  going  ? " 

"  She  is,"  I  answered,  with  emphasis. 

Balser  was  inclined  to  remonstrate,  and 
said,  "  But  we  —  " 

"  There  are  no  '  buts,' "  I  interrupted 
sharply,     "  She  has  saved  our  lives  and  has 


UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL  243 

recovered  our  gold,  and  she  goes  with  us  or 
I  stay  with  her." 

"  There  are  but  two  horses,"  insisted 
Balser,  "  and  we  can't  all  ride." 

"  There  will  be  one  for  you,"  I  retorted, 
"and  if  that  isn't  enough,  you  may  walk. 
The  girl  will  ride  behind  me." 

"  But,"  said  Balser,  "  the  robbers  will  pur- 
sue us,  and  if  you  ride  double,  we  can't 
travel  fast  enough  to  escape." 

"  I'll  not  go  with  you,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Very  well.  Then  we'll  go  back  to  the 
house,"  said  I.  "  If  you'd  only  get  it  into 
your  head  for  once  and  all  that  Tom  Andy 
Bill  Addison  is  not  going  home  without 
you,  you  would  save  us  a  great  deal  of 
time." 

The  girl  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  said 
softly,  "  I'll  do  whatever  you  tell  me  to  do." 

She  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  I 
was  on  my  horse's  back,  drawing  her  up  be- 
hind me.  When  she  was  firmly  seated  on 
the  horse,  she  cried  out :  — 

"  Oh,  you've  forgotten  the  gold  !  Where 
is  the  precious  bag?  " 

She  was  right ;  I  had  forgotten  the  gold  for 
the  sake  of  the  girl. 


244  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  It's  on  the  ground  there,"  I  said  to 
Balser.     "  Hand  it  to  me." 

"  I'll  carry  it,"  said  the  girl.  Balser 
handed  her  the  bag,  and  I  said  to  him :  — 

"  Now  you  go  ahead  as  fast  as  you  wish, 
and  we'll  follow  as  fast  as  we  can." 

"  No,  I'll  stay  with  you,"  he  responded. 
"  But  why  you  want  to  take  the  girl  with  us 
is  more  than  I  can  understand." 

"  You  have  no  need  to  understand,"  I 
answered  hotly.  "  You  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness and  go  your  own  way,  and  we'll  take 
care  of  ourselves." 

"  I  wouldn't  leave  you,  Tom  Andy  Bill," 
said  Balser,  "  if  I  knew  that  I  would  be  full 
of  bullets  before  sun-up."  Then  I  was  sorry 
that  I  had  spoken  angrily. 

Within  a  minute  or  two  we  were  once 
more  on  the  Michigan  Road,  travelling 
toward  home  at  a  fine  pace.  We  left  our 
wagon  and  harness  in  exchange  for  the  girl. 
Balser  thought  we  had  made  a  poor  trade, 
but  I  was  more  than  satisfied.  Later  on  in 
life  I  —  I  —  but  that's  no  part  of  this  story. 

Twelve  hours  afterward  Balser  and  two 
mud-covered,  half-dead  specimens  of  human- 
ity alighted  in  front  of  my  father's  cabin  on 


"  Wk  i.kh    oik  WAGON  ami   HARNESS  IN  EXCHANGE  KOR 
THE  GIKI.  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  245 

Blue.  Perhaps  you  think  we  were  not  glad 
to  get  home !  Rapid  explanations  followed, 
and  I  was  not  quite  sure  that  father  and 
mother  looked  upon  the  girl  and  wagon  trade 
with  all  the  favor  that  it  had  found  in  my 
eyes;  but  after  the  mud  had  been  washed 
from  Mab's  face,  and  after  she  had  put  on 
one  of  my  sister's  dresses,  her  beauty  shone 
with  such  lustre  that  mother  kissed  her  and 
gave  her  welcome. 

When  I  told  mother  how  Mab  had  saved 
our  lives  and  our  gold,  the  dear  old  mother 
kissed  her  again,  and  told  Mab  she  should 
be  another  daughter  in  the  house.  A  great 
deal  of  rapid  talking  followed,  and  our  ad- 
venture with  the  robbers  was  told  with  all 
the  exciting  detail  that  I  could  furnish. 
The  gold,  of  course,  was  mentioned  fre- 
quently, and  after  a  little  time,  father  said: 

"Where  is  the  money,  Tom  Andy  Bill?" 

"  There  it  is,"  said  I,  pointing  to  the  sack 
on  the  table. 

Father  lifted  the  sack  and  said :  "  It's 
powerful  heavy.  Did  you  get  it  all  for  the 
furs?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

Then  he  untied  the  mouth  of  the  sack  and 


246  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

poured  out  upon  the  table  a  great  pile  of 
beautiful  —  bullets. 

Mab  looked  at  the  bullets ;  her  big  eyes 
opened  in  momentary  surprise,  and  then  she 
sent  forth  the  merriest  peal  of  laughter  you 
ever  heard. 

"  That  bag  of  bullets  nearly  cost  him  his 
life,"  she  said,  and  then  she  laughed  again 
as  if  she  thought  it  was  very  funny. 

Balser  said :  "  After  all  that  we  have  gone 
through,  this  is  awful !     Bullets ! " 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I,  and  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  it  was  hard  for  me  to  keep  from 
laughing.  You  see,  we  had  brought  home 
the  girl,  and  I  thought  that  any  sort  of  an 
exchange  for  her  was  a  good  trade. 

Balser  walked  up  and  down  the  room  for 
a  moment,  and  then  said  with  determina- 
tion :  — 

"We'll  go  back  to  the  swamp  and  get 
that  gold — just  as  sure  as  I  live,  I'll  do  it. 
We'll  have  it  within  a  month ! " 

"  I  hope  you're  right,"  said  I. 

We  did  go  back  with  a  posse  of  twenty- 
five  deputy  United  States  marshals.  The 
government  wanted  The  Wolves  under  an 
indictment  against  them  for  having  robbed 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  247 

the  mails.  Balser  and  I  got  our  gold,  we 
being  able  to  identify  it  in  the  little  sack  in 
which  we  had  received  it.  The  deputy  mar- 
shals captured  a  great  deal  of  other  gold 
and  plunder,  all  of  which  was  confiscated 
by  the  government. 

Old  Polly  Wolf  and  the  two  women,  cap- 
tured in  the  swamp,  were  taken  to  Cincin- 
nati, where  Polly  died  in  jail.  Even  though 
she  was  in  jail,  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
away  from  Blue  River,  she  made  trouble  for 
me  —  trouble  that  resulted  in  the  greatest 
grief  I've  ever  known.  One  of  The  Wolves 
escaped,  but  the  other  four  and  old  Daddy 
Wolf  were  hanged. 

"  Now,  Mab,  what  do  you  think  of  that 
story?"  asked  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill. 

"  I  hope  you'll  not  tell  us  any  more  like 
it,"  the  baby  girl  answered,  with  a  sigh. 
"  I've  almost  shivered  to  death.  Please  take 
me  on  your  lap,  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,  and 
warm  me." 

She  climbed  to  his  lap,  and  was  soon 
warmed  to  sleep  in  his  arms.  He  watched 
the  child's  face,  and  when  the  white,  blue- 
veined  lids  were  closed   hard  and  fast,  he 


248  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

whispered    huskily,    "  The    girl    was    Mab's 
grandmother." 

He  bent  his  head,  the  waving  silver  locks 
mingled  for  a  moment  with  Mab's  curls  as 
he  kissed  her  baby  lips,  and  then  he  drew 
a  great  sigh  and  carried  his  love  of  loves  to 
bed. 


CHAPTER  X 

A   CHRISTMAS    DINNER   IN   THE    WOODS 

The  following  summer  I  bought  the  forty- 
acre  tract  of  ground  on  which  this  house 
stands  with  my  half  of  the  money  recovered 
from  The  Wolves.  Father's  farm  was  five 
miles  south  of  here  on  Blue  River.  Balser 
bought  the  forty  acres  just  north  of  this. 
Our  first  task  was  to  build  a  log  cabin.  We 
built  it  on  the  little  patch  of  raised  ground 
close  to  the  river,  just  below  the  barn.  You 
have  all  played  in  it  —  you,  and  two  or  three 
other  generations.  It  stands  there  yet,  and 
will  stand  there  as  long  as  I  live  if  I  have  my 
way  concerning  it. 

After  our  cabin  was  built,  Balser  and  I 
moved  in  and  began  clearing  the  land.  It 
was  a  big  undertaking  for  two  boys  seven- 
teen years  old,  but  we  went  at  it  with  deter- 
mination and  made  fair  progress  from  the 
start.  You  have  no  idea  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  task. 

349 


250  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

The  ground  was  almost  covered  with 
great  trees,  many  of  them  four  feet  in  di- 
ameter, and  between  the  trees  flourished  an 
undergrowth  that  would  make  the  hair  on  a 
dog's  back  look  thin  by  comparison.  It  was 
hard,  slow  work,  but  Balser  and  I  took  our 
time  to  it;  and  for  the  first  three  or  four 
years  we  were  contented  with  a  small  clear- 
ing. 

The  house  nearest  us  down  the  river  was 
Raster's,  three  miles  away.  East  of  us, 
three  or  four  miles  distant,  lived  a  few 
families  ;  but  they  did  not  belong  to  the  Blue 
River  settlement  and  we  did  not  know  them. 

In  our  cabin  we  had  a  floor  made  of  logs 
smoothed  with  an  adze  on  three  sides  and  fit- 
ting snugly  together.  There  was  a  ceiling 
overhead,  under  the  clapboard  roof,  and  of 
course  we  had  a  fine,  large  fireplace.  Our 
cabin  on  Brandywine  had  been  too  well 
ventilated  to  protect  us  against  a  cold  wind, 
but  our  new  cabin  on  Blue  was  a  defence 
against  both  the  wind  and  the  frost.  We 
also  built  a  log  stable  for  Solomon,  and  when 
winter  approached,  we  were  prepared  to  live 
sumptuously.  Mother  gave  me  a  cow,  and 
late  in  the  fall  we  brought  up  corn  and  oats 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  251 

for  feed.  We  had  chickens  also,  and  after 
we  were  fairly  installed  for  the  winter,  we 
lived  royally.  We  took  school  books  and 
histories  with  us,  and  during  the  long  winter 
evenings  we  acted  as  each  other's  teacher, 
and  learned  as  much  as  if  we  had  been  in 
school. 

When  the  cold  weather  set  in,  our  principal 
work,  of  course,  was  trapping,  though  we  also 
did  a  good  bit  of  clearing.  We  didn't  have 
many  adventures  worth  narrating,  but  we 
spent  a  grand,  happy,  profitable  winter.  Oh, 
how  happy  we  were  !  I  see  even  the  little 
events  of  that  winter  more  distinctly  than 
the  great  ones  of  recent  years.  We  had 
built  a  long  oak  table  that  we  placed  in  front 
of  the  fire,  and  the  picture  of  two  boys  sitting 
at  the  table,  ciphering  by  the  firelight,  is  to 
me  like  a  peep  back  into  Paradise. 

My,  how  cosey  we  were !  And  what  a 
sweet  zest  life  had  for  us !  We  had  a  real 
bed  —  a  feather  bed  —  over  in  the  corner, 
and  the  walls  of  the  cabin  were  covered  with 
shelves,  handy  for  storing  our  arms,  ammu- 
nition, tools,  provisions,  and  utensils.  We 
had  dishes,  too,  and  pots  and  pans  so  numer- 
ous that  they  were  often  in  our  way. 


252  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

Usually  we  went  home  every  second 
Sunday ;  but  as  Christmas  approached,  we 
skipped  a  Sunday,  intending  to  be  home  to 
meet  Santa  Claus. 

A  day  or  two  before  Christmas  we  killed 
a  fat  wild  turkey,  meaning  to  take  it  home 
for  Christmas  dinner.  The  weather  at  that 
time,  I  well  remember,  was  beautiful.  A 
heavy  snow  covered  the  ground,  and  it  was 
cold.  The  trees  about  our  cabin  were  fes- 
tooned with  garlands  of  crystal  and  snow, 
and  the  bright  sun,  loath  to  spoil  the  ex- 
quisite picture,  was  gentle  in  the  way  of 
heat,  but  mighty  in  brilliancy.  We  lived  in 
a  fairyland. 

Christmas  morning  Balser  and  I  awoke 
at  the  usual  hour,  but  remembering  the  day, 
we  concluded  to  make  ourselves  a  present  of 
a  morning  nap,  so  we  rolled  over  and  went 
to  sleep  again.  We  did  not  sleep  long,  how- 
ever, for  we  were  awakened  by  peals  of 
laughter  and  cries  of  "  Balser,  Balser  !  "  and 
"  Tom  Andy  Bill !  "  outside  our  door.  One 
voice  I  recognized  instantly.  It  was  Mab's, 
and  you  may  safely  wager  everything  you 
have  that  I  got  out  of  bed  mighty  quickly. 

Our  toilets   were  made    while  you   could 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  253 

count  a  hundred,  and  when  I  opened  the 
door,  there  were  my  three  sisters  and  Mab 
on  two  of  my  father's  horses.  Each  girl  car- 
ried a  basket,  and  they  were  all  laughing  and 
screaming  and  calling  for  help.  What  a 
sight  it  was !  Their  cheeks  were  like  June 
roses,  their  eyes  danced  and  glistened  like 
the  happiest  star  in  all  the  firmament,  and  the 
laughter  from  their  lips  was  like  the  ripple 
of  the  merriest  brook  that  ever  sung  a  moun- 
tain roundelay. 

When  we  came  out  they  could  not  speak 
for  laughing,  and  we  were  so  glad  to  see  them 
that  we,  too,  began  to  laugh,  and  away  we 
went,  all  together,  with  foolish  persistency 
that  must  have  delighted  the  heart  of  good 
old  Santa  Claus. 

We  stood  there  laughing  until  Mab  said : 
"  Take  this  basket,  Tom  Andy  Bill.  It  has 
almost  broken  my  arm." 

I  took  the  basket  and  turned  to  help  her 
from  the  horse,  but  I  was  too  late.  She  had 
jumped  to  the  ground  before  I  could  turn 
around. 

"  Too  slow,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  Too  quick,  Mab,"  whispered  I. 


254  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

We  took  all  the  baskets  from  the  girls, 
and  when  they  had  dismounted  Balser  and  I 
led  the  horses  to  the  stable.  When  we 
returned  to  the  cabin  we  found  the  girls 
busily  engaged  getting  breakfast.  Of  course 
they  were  all  laughing  and  talking  at  once. 
When  Balser  and  I  joined  them,  we,  too, 
began  to  laugh  about  nothing,  and  talk  about 
less.  We  all  talked  at  once,  and  although 
none  of  us  seemed  to  know  what  the  others 
were  saying,  we  understood  in  a  general  way 
that  we  were  trying  to  tell  each  other  how 
glad  we  were  that  we  were  alive  and  all 
together. 

Balser  and  I,  of  course,  wanted  to  peep  into 
the  baskets,  but  a  chorus  of  screams  and  pro- 
tests checked  our  curiosity.  The  girls  would 
not  let  us  eat  much  breakfast,  saying  that  we 
must  save  ourselves  for  dinner.  We  tried  to 
convince  them  that  we  didn't  have  to  save 
ourselves,  —  that  we  had  enough  hunger  for 
both  breakfast  and  dinner;  but  those  tyranni- 
cal girls  served  us  only  a  small  ration  and  said 
we  would  have  to  be  satisfied.  After  break- 
fast they  drove  us  out  of  the  house  and  kept 
us  waiting  in  the  cold  until  Mab  came  to  the 
door  and  said,  "  Now  you  may  come  in." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  255 

On  the  table  were  presents  that  had  been 
sent  up  to  us  by  our  folks.  Among  my  pres- 
ents, I  well  remember,  was  a  great  woollen 
neck  comforter,  long  enough  to  wind  about 
my  throat  a  dozen  times.  The  colors  were 
patriotic  —  red,  white,  and  blue  —  and  I 
thought  and  still  think  it  the  most  beautiful 
comforter  in  the  world,  for  Mab  had  knitted 
it.  She  threw  it  about  my  neck  and  pulled 
both  ends  to  choke  me.  Of  course,  that 
seemed  very  funny  to  everybody,  and  we  all 
laughed  till  the  tears  came  to  our  eyes.  Mitts, 
and  socks,  and  ear-warmers,  and  comforters, 
and  chest  protectors  —  all  the  work  of  loving 
hands  —  covered  the  table,  and  —  and  —  bless 
my  life !  it  almost  makes  me  cry  to  remem- 
ber how  happy  we  were.  It's  too  bad  that 
there's  always  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  the  mem- 
ory of  great  joy. 

The  girls  went  with  us  that  morning  to 
visit  the  traps.  I  wore  my  great  comforter 
and  almost  smothered  because  it  was  so 
warm.  I  would  have  worn  it  even  had  I 
known  that  it  would  kill  me.  I  walked  with 
Mab,  and,  I  tell  you,  I  was  happy.  I  hoped  we 
would  find  no  game  in  the  traps,  for  I  could 
not  bear  to  think  of  causing  suffering  even  to 


256  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

a  wolf  at  that  time.  Mab,  too,  was  happy ;  and 
when  we  found  a  fox  in  a  trap,  we  would  have 
liberated  it  had  it  not  fought  so  viciously 
when  we  tried  to  unspring  the  trap  that  we 
had  to  kill  it.  We  freed  a  score  of  coons  and 
muskrats,  giving  them  their  lives  as  a  Christ- 
mas present  from  the  girls. 

When  we  had  visited  the  traps,  we  went 
back  to  the  cabin,  and  Balser  climbed  the  tree 
on  which  our  wild  turkey  was  hanging  and 
brought  down  the  bird.  We  dipped  the 
turkey  in  a  great  kettle  of  hot  water  to 
loosen  the  feathers,  and  soon  it  was  bare. 
When  the  turkey  was  ready  for  the  fire,  we 
improvised  a  spit,  using  a  steel  ramrod  for 
the  purpose,  and  hung  it  over  a  great  bed  of 
hickory  coals  to  roast.  If  you  have  never 
tasted  a  turkey  roasted  over  the  coals  on  a 
spit,  you  don't  know  how  agreeable  that  noble 
bird  can  make  itself  to  a  man's  palate. 

We  had  only  two  chairs  and  two  boxes,  so, 
when  dinner  was  served,  the  girls  sat  on  the 
chairs  and  boxes,  and  Balser  and  I  knelt  at 
the  table.  I  was  so  hungry  I  didn't  know 
where  to  begin.  The  mince  pie  looked  so 
good  I  wanted  to  start  on  that,  but  sister 
Nan  said  I  didn't  know  how  to  eat. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  257 

"  You  just  give  me  a  piece  of  that  pie,  and 
I'll  show  you  if  I  don't  know  how  to  eat," 
said  I.  "  Eat  ?  I  could  give  a  yearling 
shoat  odds  and  make  him  blush  for  his 
appetite." 

The  remark  was  not  very  funny,  but  every 
one  thought  it  was,  and  the  matter  of  eating, 
urgent  as  it  was,  had  to  be  postponed  until 
we  were  through  laughing.  My  joke  went 
so  well  that  I  tried  to  think  of  another,  but 
failed.  Balser  said  something  about  his 
knees  hurting  the  floor,  and  again  the  attack 
on  the  dinner  was  postponed.  After  we  had 
laughed  at  Balser's  joke,  I  said:  — 

"  Now,  every  one  keep  still.  I  want  to  eat. 
I've  laughed  till  I'm  sore  all  over ; "  but  Mab 
only  laughed  the  more  and  said  :  — 

"  What's  the  use  of  eating  so  long  as  you 
can  laugh  ? "  so  off  we  went  again,  and  I 
thought  we  would  never  stop. 

I  again  insisted  that  I  wanted  a  piece  of 
pie  first. 

My  sisters  all  protested,  but  while  Nan, 
the  eldest,  was  carving  the  turkey,  Mab,  who 
sat  next  to  where  I  was  kneeling,  cut  the 
mince  pie,  and  handed  a  piece  to  me  under 
the  table.     When  the  others  saw  me  eating 


258  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

the  pie,  there  was  a  great  storm  of  protests, 
and  everybody  had  to  laugh  again. 

"Now,  Mr.  Shoat,"  said  Nan,  "pie  is 
always  eaten  last,  and  as  you  are  eating  your 
pie,  of  course  you  have  finished  your  dinner, 
and  you  don't  get  another  mouthful." 

But  Mab  said:  "Don't  cry,  Tom  Andy 
Bill.  You  shall  have  half  of  my  dinner.  I'll 
take  enough  for  both." 

In  all  the  world  there  was  not  a  gentler, 
tenderer  heart  than  Mab's,  and  Tom  Andy 
Bill  was  always  first  in  it. 

We  were  slow  getting  started  because  we 
were  laughing  and  talking  so  much;  but 
once  we  got  under  way,  you  should  have 
seen  that  dinner  disappear. 

Turkey  and  "  stuffing,"  mashed  potatoes, 
delicious  fresh  bread,  yellow  butter,  milk  that 
was  nearly  all  cream,  jelly,  a  half-dozen  kinds 
of  preserved  fruits,  as  many  kinds  of  cake, 
mince  pies,  apple  pies,  sugar  pies  —  all  fell 
before  our  wrath,  and  soon  I  was  so  full  that 
I  thought  one  more  mouthful  would  surely 
make  me  helpless.  I  would  gladly  give  all 
I  possess  to  eat  just  one  more  dinner  like 
that  before  I  die,  but  if  I  were  worth  millions 
I  couldn't  buy  it. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  259 

After  dinner  we  swept  the  snow  from  a 
long,  narrow  stretch  of  ice  on  the  river  and 
"  skeeted."  We  had  no  skates ;  we  simply  ran 
and  slid  on  the  ice.  Some  one  suggested  that 
we  slide  for  a  prize,  and  the  person  making 
the  longest  "  skeet "  should  win  the  trophy. 
There  was  one  difficulty  in  the  way  of  carry- 
ing out  this  plan.     We  had  no  prize. 

I  suggested,  "  Let's  take  a  lock  of  Mab's 
hair  for  a  prize." 

Every  one  but  Mab  eagerly  assented.  She 
put  her  hands  to  her  hair  protectingly,  and 
said,  "  No,  sir!  "  But  when  we  all  insisted, 
she  gave  in,  and  I  cut  a  lock  of  black, 
silky  hair  from  her  head  with  my  penknife. 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  win  that  prize  or  die 
in  the  attempt. 

When  the  ice  path  was  cleared,  we  started 
in  on  our  contest.  The  girls  went  first, 
then  Balser  "skeeted,"  and  then  I  came  to 
the  scratch.  I  looked  under  my  hand  down 
the  ice  path,  as  if  I  were  trying  to  see  some- 
thing very  far  off,  and  said :  — 

"  The  river  isn't  long  enough  for  me.  I'm 
afraid  if  I  start  too  hard,  I'll  slide  out  through 
the  mouth  and  land  in  the  Ohio." 

Every  one  laughed  as  usual,  and  I  thought 


26o  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

I  was  a  great  wag.  We  were  each  to  have 
ten  trials,  and  the  afternoon  was  pretty  well 
advanced  before  we  had  finished  the  contest. 
I  got  the  prize,  and  I  got  a  smile  along  with 
it  when  Mab  made  the  award  that  I  valued 
even  more  highly  than  the  trophy  itself. 

After  "skeeting,"  we  all  flocked  to  the 
stable  to  milk  and  feed  the  cow,  and  to  give 
Solomon  his  corn  and  hay.  Everybody 
helped  at  the  chores,  and  of  course  every- 
body laughed  all  the  time.  Solomon  said 
very  plainly  that  it  had  never  before  been 
his  misfortune  to  meet  such  a  lot  of  laughing 
fools;  but  though  Solomon  was  wise,  he  didn't 
know  everything.  You  see,  he  didn't  under- 
stand our  sort  of  wisdom.  There's  more 
wisdom  in  a  laugh,  Solomon,  than  is  dreamt 
of  in  your  philosophy. 

The  remains  of  dinner  served  us  for  sup- 
per, and  after  we  had  finished  we  moved  the 
table  back  in  the  room.  Nan  brought  out  a 
great  jug  of  hard  cider, —  hard,  mind  you, — 
and  we  all  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  a  half 
moon  before  the  roaring  fire,  where  we  ate 
nuts,  drank  cider,  popped  corn,  told  stories, 
asked  riddles,  and  played  childish  games  till 
bedtime.     Sister  Nan  allowed  us  just  enough 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  261 

to  drink  and  no  more,  for  hard  cider  will 
make  you  drunk  if  you  take  too  much. 

"  Nan  keeps  the  cider  jug  beside  her," 
said  Balser,  playing  on  the  word;  and  I  went 
him  one  better  and  said:  — 

"  I'm  afraid  she'll  soon  have  it  all  inside 
her  if  we  don't  assert  our  rights." 

We  had  laughed  so  much  all  day  that  we 
could  not  laugh  any  more,  and  our  awful 
puns  fell  flat,  as  was  perfectly  right  and 
just. 

The  girls  remained  all  night  and  slept  in 
our  bed.  Fortunately  it  was  very  broad,  and 
fortunately,  too,  they  could  have  slept  any- 
where. Balser  and  I  took  our  bearskin 
sleeping-bags  and  went  to  the  stable  loft, 
where  we  were  snug  and  warm  in  the  hay. 
Grumbling  Solomon  tried  to  explain  to  us 
next  morning  that  we  had  kept  him  awake, 
snoring;  but  we  wouldn't  understand  his  bad 
English,  and,  in  fact,  we  didn't  believe  him 
anyway. 

The  day  after  Christmas  the  girls  left  us, 
and  our  cabin  seemed  to  me  like  an  Eveless 
Eden,  a  deserted,  lonely  Paradise. 

Half  an  hour  after  my  sisters  and  Mab  had 
left  the  cabin,  while  Balser  and  I  were  sit- 


262  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

ting  before  the  fire,  feeling  very  lonesome, 
and  trying  to  make  up  our  minds  to  visit  the 
traps,  we  heard  a  great  screaming  outside, 
and  we  knew  that  the  girls  had  come  back 
to  us  in  trouble.  We  hurried  out  to  learn 
the  cause  of  the  screaming,  and  met  the  four 
girls  a  short  distance  below  Solomon's  barn, 
running  for  the  cabin  as  fast  as  they  could 
run,  and  screaming  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  trouble  now  ? "  I 
asked. 

Sister  Nan  gasped  out  the  word  "  Bear ! " 

"  Where  are  the  horses  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  They  got  frightened  at  the  bear  and 
reared  up,  and  we  slid  off  behind,"  said  Nan. 

"  And  then  we  were  at  the  mercy  of  the 
bear,"  interrupted  sister  Betty. 

"It  seems  to  have  been  a  merciful  bear," 
I  suggested.  "  You  are  all  here,  alive  and 
whole  of  skin." 

"Don't  joke  about  it,  Tom  Andy  Bill," 
said  Mab,  who  was  almost  out  of  breath. 
"  Our  skins  may  be  whole,  but,  I  tell  you,  we 
are  almost  frightened  out  of  them.  Oh,  it 
was  awful!  We  came  upon  the  bear  right  in 
front  of  us  as  we  turned  a  bend  in  the  path. 
The  horses  reared  up,  and  of  course  we  slid 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY  BILL  263 

off.  Then  the  horses  ran,  and  that  awful 
bear  arose  on  its  hind  feet,  opened  its  fright- 
ful red  mouth,  and  came  right  toward  us 
with  the  most  horrid  growls  you  ever  heard." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  we  screamed,  of  course,  and  ran, 
and  kept  on  running  and  screaming  till  we 
got  here." 

"  Where  did  you  see  the  bear  ?  "  asked 
Balser. 

"  Just  beyond  the  big  hollow  sycamore," 
answered  my  youngest  sister. 

The  hollow  sycamore  stood  by  the  side  of 
the  horse  path,  half  a  mile  down-stream. 

While  we  were  talking,  Balser  ran  to  the 
house,  and  within  two  minutes  he  returned, 
bringing  with  him  the  dogs,  guns,  and  ammu- 
nition. I  took  my  gun,  powder-horn,  and 
bullets  from  him,  and  said  :  — 

"  Now,  come  with  us,  girls.  Show  us  the 
bear,  and  we  will  avenge  your  wrong." 

The  girls  very  willingly  went  with  us, 
feeling  brave  under  the  protection  of  two  such 
mighty  bear  hunters,  and  before  we  had  taken 
twenty  steps  on  the  war-path,  they  were 
laughing  and  talking  as  merrily  as  if  nothing 
had  happened  to  ruffle  them. 


264  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

I  quieted  them,  saying:  "  If  you  want  to 
catch  the  bear,  you  must  keep  still.  The 
clatter  you  girls  are  making  would  frighten 
off  a  troupe  of  deaf  and  dumb  lions." 

Quiet  reigned  for  a  moment,  but  those 
girls  were  so  happy  they  could  no  more 
keep  from  laughing  than  a  mountain  brook 
in  springtime  can  keep  from  babbling. 

When  we  approached  the  spot  where  the 
bear  had  been  seen,  the  girls  confined  them- 
selves to  whispers,  and,  as  father  would  have 
said,  "  giggling."  They  might  as  well  have 
shouted.  Balser  and  I,  of  course,  were  march- 
ing in  the  van  of  the  laughing  army,  and  the 
girls  were  following  close  at  our  heels.  The 
first  shot  would  certainly  frighten  them  out 
of  their  wits  and  send  them  flying  on  the 
backward  path.  In  fact,  I  had  no  hope  at 
all  of  finding  the  bear.  One  might  as  well 
go  to  sea  in  a  lead  ship  as  hunt  bears  with 
a  covey  of  girls.  Balser,  too,  felt  that  our 
search  was  in  vain.  In  truth,  our  real  pur- 
pose in  going  with  the  girls  was  more  to  allay 
their  fears  and  to  find  the  horses  than  to  kill 
a  bear.  We  had  no  hope  of  the  latter.  We 
knew  the  bear  would  take  itself  off  to  safety 
when  it  heard  us  approaching,  and  I  knew 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  265 

that  our  only  chance  of  killing  "  His  Bear- 
ship  "  was  to  take  up  its  spoor  and  follow 
it.  That  probably  would  mean  an  all  day's 
journey,  and  we,  of  course,  had  no  idea  of 
taking  the  girls  on  such  a  tramp. 

Balser  and  I  had  suggested  to  the  girls  the 
possibility  that  they  might  be  frightened  when 
the  fight  took  place,  but  they,  with  more  noise 
than  sincerity,  spurned  the  thought.  "  No, 
indeed,  they  would  not  be  frightened  !  Just 
wait  and  see !  " 

When  we  were  passing  the  hollow  syca- 
more, I  turned  toward  the  girls  and  whis- 
pered :  — 

"  I  think  the  bear  is  right  ahead  of  us." 
Of  course,  it  was  said  to  frighten  them.  I 
did  not  see  Mab  with  the  girls,  so  I  asked, 
"  Where's  Mab  ?  " 

"  She  dropped  her  muff  and  has  gone  back 
to  find  it,"  answered  Betty. 

Balser  and  I  were  perhaps  ten  yards  ahead 
of  the  girls,  when  he  called  back  in  a  hoarse 
whisper :  — 

"  Here's  the  bear!  Here's  the  bear!  "  Then 
he  whispered  to  me :  "  Let's  fire  and  scare 
them.  There's  no  bear  within  a  mile  of  us, 
and  we'll  not  see  one." 


266  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Wanting  to  show  off,  he  fired  his  gun,  and 
I,  too,  blazed  away  at  nothing.  The  result 
was  most  satisfactory,  for  the  girls  ran  back 
on  the  path  screaming  like  mad.  They  were 
not  going  to  be  frightened,  no,  not  they ! 
Balser  and  I  stood  laughing,  but  soon  our 
tune  changed,  for  in  less  than  a  minute  the 
girls,  that  is,  three  of  them,  came  running 
back  to  us,  screaming  and  frightened  in  real 
earnest. 

"  There's  another  bear  right  back  of  us," 
cried  Betty.  Balser  and  I  again  laughed,  but 
we  were  soon  convinced  that  they  had  really 
seen  a  bear. 

"  Where  was  it  ?  "  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  It  came  out  of.  the  hollow  sycamore  just 
as  we  got  there,"  answered  Nan. 

"  Where  is  Mab  ?  Where  is  Mab  ?  "  I 
asked.     At  last  I  was  aroused. 

"She  is  down  the  path,  hunting  her  muff," 
answered  Nan ;  "  and  the  bear  started  right 
down  in  her  direction." 

So  did  I  start  in  her  direction  as  fast  as 
I  could  run,  and  Balser  after  me. 

"Load  your  gun!"  I  cried,  "and  come  on 
quick." 

I  tried  to  load  my  gun  as  I  ran,  but  I 


'  >M.    HUNDRED   YARDS   AHEAD   OK   Ml   WAS  THE   BEAR  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  267 

spilled  the  powder  and  could  not  get  a  bul- 
let in  the  muzzle.  Balser  stopped  to  load 
his  gun,  and  soon  overtook  me.  Then  I 
stopped,  and  never  in  all  my  life  did  I  load 
a  gun  so  quickly. 

I  threw  my  coat  to  the  ground  and  started 
after  Balser.  After  I  had  passed  him,  I  heard 
a  piercing  scream  just  ahead  of  me.  I  knew 
the  scream  was  from  Mab,  though  I  could 
not  see  her,  for  the  path  made  a  sharp  turn 
at  that  point,  and  the  underbrush,  though 
leafless,  was  so  thick  that  I  could  not  see 
through  it. 

When  I  rounded  the  bend  in  the  path, 
my  blood  almost  froze.  One  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  me  was  the  bear,  and  a  few  short 
yards  ahead  of  it  was  Mab,  running  and 
screaming  for  dear  life.  The  race  between 
Mab  and  the  bear  would  not  last  long.  The 
girl,  though  braver  than  I  when  facing  death 
at  the  hands  of  The  Wolves,  would  soon 
fall  from  exhaustion  and  fright,  and  the  in- 
furiated bear  would  tear  her  to  pieces. 

There  were  two  reasons  why  I  dared  not 
shoot.  First,  Mab  was  in  line  with  the  bear 
and  me,  and  if  my  bullet  should  miss  the 
black  brute,  it  would  surely  find  her.     Sec- 


268  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

ond,  the  bear's  tail  was  toward  me.  I  could 
get  neither  a  broadside  nor  a  head  shot,  and 
if  I  should  hit  the  bear,  my  bullet  would 
wound  but  would  not  kill,  and  a  wounded 
bear  is  the  incarnation  of  fury. 

While  these  thoughts  were  flashing  through 
my  mind,  the  bear  overtook  Mab.  I  saw  it 
stop  and  rise  to  its  feet  to  strike  the  girl 
with  its  fearful  paws.  One  blow  would  have 
killed  her,  for  the  bear  was  a  monster. 

The  brute's  momentary  pause  allowed  Mab 
to  gain  a  few  feet  in  the  race,  and  while  the 
bear  was  upright,  Balser  fired,  and  I  heard 
the  bullet  strike.  Instantly  Mab  fell  to  the 
ground.  I  shouted,  and  the  bear  turned 
toward  me.  I  hoped  I  had  drawn  the  at- 
tack upon  myself,  and  had  my  gun  almost 
to  my  shoulder  to  fire  at  the  bear's  head, 
when  it  turned  quickly  and  again  presented 
its  rump  for  my  aim.  By  this  time  I  had 
reduced  the  distance  between  the  bear  and 
me  to  twenty  yards,  and  Mab  was  lying  in 
the  path  a  few  yards  ahead  of  the  bear. 

Of  course,  all  that  I  am  telling  you  oc- 
curred very  rapidly  —  within  a  few  seconds. 
In  less  than  one  second,  it  seemed  to  me, 
after  the  bear  turned,  it  was  standing  over 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  269 

Mab,  who  was  lying  on  the  ground.  I  saw 
its  teeth  glisten  as  it  opened  its  great  red 
mouth  just  over  her  white  throat,  and  I 
thought  that  Mab  had  not  another  moment 
to  live.  If  she  were  not  already  dead  from 
Balser's  bullet,  the  bear  would  soon  kill  her. 

A  thousand  thoughts  flashed  through  my 
mind  in  the  hundredth  part  of  a  second,  as 
a  man  may  dream  of  the  events  of  a  lifetime 
during  one  beat  of  his  pulse.  I  thought  of 
my  first  meeting  with  Mab,  of  the  swamp,  of 
her  flight,  of  her  bravery,  her  beauty,  her 
tenderness,  and  though  I  was  but  a  boy  of 
seventeen  and  she  a  girl  of  fifteen,  I  then 
knew  that  in  all  my  life  I  should  never  find 
another  girl  to  take  her  place  in  my  heart ; 
and  —  and  I  never  have  found  one. 

Well,  as  I  have  said,  all  these  things  flashed 
through  my  mind  while  the  bear's  terrible 
jaws  were  about  to  clutch  Mab's  throat.  I 
acted  entirely  without  thought  and  upon 
impulse.  I  was  not  conscious  of  lifting  my 
gun  to  my  shoulder.  I  do  not  remember 
firing,  but  I  did  fire,  and  I  do  remember  see- 
ing the  bear  spring  into  the  air  and  fall  back 
on  Mab.  My  bullet  had  penetrated  its 
brain.     I  also   remember  tossing  the  great 


270  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

five-hundred-pound  brute  to  one  side  as  ft 
it  had  been  a  fox,  and  I  remember  snatching 
Mab  from  the  ground  and  running  back 
down  the  path  with  my  unconscious  burden 
in  my  arms  to  where  the  girls  were  standing. 
I  was  as  strong  as  an  ox. 

"  See  if  she  lives,"  I  cried,  laying  Mab 
gently  on  the  ground. 

Nan  felt  her  hands  and  said :  "  I  don't 
know.     I  can't  tell." 

Then  I  fell  on  my  knees  and  placed  my 
ear  over  her  heart.  I  distinctly  heard  its 
beating,  and  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  crying 
excitedly :  — 

"She  lives!  She  lives!  See  if  she  is 
shot,  Nan!" 

"  Shot  ? "  asked  Nan  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "Shot!  Shot!  Don't 
you  understand  ?  Remove  her  clothing  and 
see  if  she  is  shot !  " 

I  walked  away  and  met  Balser  coming 
down  the  path.     I  stopped  him  and  said :  — 

"  Nan  is  trying  to  see  if  she  is  shot." 

"  Shot  ?  "  asked  Balser.    "  Who  shot  her  ?  " 

*  You,  if  any  one,"  I  answered.  "  She  fell 
when  you  fired." 

"Merciful    God!"   cried    Balser,     "did    I 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  271 

miss  the  bear  and  hit  her  ?  Let  us  examine 
the  bear." 

We  ran  to  the  dead  bear  and  began  a 
hurried  examination.  I  found  the  wound 
of  Balser's  bullet  in  its  neck,  and  I  soon  dis- 
covered my  shot  in  its  head.  I  then  hastened 
back  to  the  girls,  shouting :  — 

"  She  is  not  shot !  She  is  not  shot ! 
We've  found  both  bullets  in  the  bear." 

"  No,  she  is  not  shot,"  answered  Nan, 
calmly,  "  but  I  fear  she  is  dying." 

Without  another  word,  I  took  Mab  in  my 
arms  and  started  home,  wild  with  grief  and 
strong  with  despair.  Balser  went  back  to 
fetch  Solomon  and  the  sleigh,  but  I  went  on 
toward  home,  carrying  Mab  in  my  arms.  I 
had  been  walking  perhaps  ten  minutes  when 
a  sigh  came  from  her  lips.  She  lifted  her 
arm,  twined  it  about  my  neck,  and  whispered 
my  name,  "  Tom  Andy  Bill."  I  was  wild 
with  joy,  but  I  did  not  speak.  In  a  moment 
she  said :  — 

"  You  saved  my  life.  I  saw  you  lift  your 
gun ;  then  I  heard  the  bullet  strike  the  bear's 
head  within  six  inches  of  my  face,  and  I 
knew  your  aim  had  been  true." 

She  said  she  was  not  hurt,  and  she  wanted 


272  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

me  to  put  her  down ;  but  I  begged  her  to 
remain  where  she  was,  and  she  whispered :  — 

"We'll  let  the  others  think  I  haven't 
waked  up  yet." 

Then  she  closed  her  eyes  again,  and 
I  marched  proudly  through  the  snow,  as 
strong  as  Samson,  the  happiest  boy  in  all  the 
world. 

The  road  over  which  the  sled  could  be 
drawn  made  a  circuit  east  of  the  river,  while 
the  horse  path  over  which  we  were  travelling 
hugged  the  banks  for  quite  a  distance  down- 
stream and  joined  the  wagon  road  four  miles 
above  father's  house.  When  we  reached  the 
wagon  road  we  halted  to  wait  for  Balser,  and 
soon  we  saw  Solomon's  ears  coming  ma- 
jestically down  the  track,  as  one  sees  first 
the  topmasts  of  an  approaching  ship  at  sea. 
Presently  Solomon  greeted  us  with  a  song  of 
welcome,  and  when  he  came  up  to  us,  he 
was  puffing  and  blowing  like  a  racehorse 
just  off  the  course. 

"  I  came  just  as  quickly  as  I  could,  and  I 
do  believe  I  made  a  mile  a  minute,"  said  the 
wise  one.  At  least,  that  is  what  Mab  said 
he  said,  but  Balser  said  that  the  donkey 
travelled  so  slowly  that  part  of  the  time  it 


"Wild  WITH  <;kiki    I    TOOK   Maii  in  my  arms  and  started 

home" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  273 

seemed  as  if  they  were  going  backward. 
We  didn't  know  which  to  believe. 

We  put  Mab  in  the  sleigh,  much  against 
her  will,  and  I  insulted  Solomon  so  grievously 
by  attempting  to  lead  him  by  the  bridle  that 
he  would  not  budge.  When  I  left  his  head, 
he  stepped  forward  with  ears  apeak,  proud 
as  any  peacock.  Mab  laughed,  and  when  no 
one  would  get  into  the  sleigh  to  ride  with 
her,  she  said  she  wouldn't  ride  alone,  so  she 
jumped  out.  Despite  the  girls'  entreaties 
and  my  commands,  she  walked  home  with  us 
and  was  none  the  worse  for  her  terrible 
adventure. 

The  two  horses  had  run  home  after  dump- 
ing the  girls  in  the  snow,  and  our  folks  were 
greatly  alarmed. 

We  found  awaiting  us,  besides  father  and 
mother,  two  strange  gentlemen  and  a  lady. 
They  were  elegantly  dressed  city  folks,  and 
when  we  entered  the  room  where  they  were 
sitting,  the  lady  ran  at  once  to  Mab,  saying : 

"  It  is  she !  It  is  she !  She  is  the  very 
image  of  my  sister !  " 

Mab  stepped  back  from  the  lady  in  sur- 
prise and  asked:  — 

u  What  is  the  matter  ?    What  do  you  want  ?" 


274  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

I  knew  instinctively  that  they  wanted 
Mab,  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  the  lady 
said :  — 

"  We  want  you,  my  dear.  We  want  to 
take  you  with  us.  I  am  your  mother's  sis- 
ter; this  gentleman  is  your  uncle,  and  the 
other  gentleman  is  my  husband.  We  learned 
from  an  old  woman  named  Polly  Wolf,  who 
died  in  the  Cincinnati  jail,  that  you  had  been 
stolen  by  a  band  of  robbers  who  plundered 
a  stage-coach  a  few  years  ago,  and  killed  your 
father  and  mother.  The  old  woman  said 
you  had  run  away  from  her  house  with  two 
boys  who  lived  farther  west  near  the  Michi- 
gan Road.  We  commenced  our  search  for 
you  at  once,  and  at  last  have  found  you.  We 
will  give  you  a  home  and  will  care  for  you 
as  if  you  were  our  daughter." 

"  But  I  have  a  good  home,"  said  Mab. 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know,"  interrupted  one  of 
the  gentlemen.  Turning  to  the  lady,  he  said, 
"  Sit  down,  Eliza,  and  let  me  question  the 
girl." 

The  lady  sat  down,  and  the  gentleman 
asked :  — 

"  Your  name  is  Mab,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Mab  answered,  "  It  is." 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL  275 

"  Do  you  know  your  father's  name  ?  "  asked 
the  gentleman. 

"  No,"  responded  Mab.  "  At  Polly's  I  went 
by  the  name  of  Mab  Wolf.  But  I  knew  that 
Granny  and  Grandpap  Wolf  were  no  kin  to 
me." 

"  It  is  as  I  expected,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  Do  you  remember  when  you  first  came  to 
Granny  Wolf's  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  I  was  taken  from  a  stage-coach. 
I  was  perhaps  five  years  old." 

"  There  is  no  further  doubt,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman, turning  to  my  father.  "  We  thank 
you  for  your  kindness  to  the  girl.  We  will 
pay  you  for  your  trouble  and  will  relieve  you 
of  her  care." 

"  You  owe  me  nothing,"  said  father.  "  Mab 
has  been  no  trouble  to  us.  She  has  been  a 
delight  and  a  comfort ;  hasn't  she,  wife  ?  " 

"  Indeed  she  has,"  answered  mother. 

"  We  can  at  least  give  you  our  gratitude," 
said  the  gentleman,  "  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
be  glad  that  the  girl  has  found  her  people, 
and  that  they  have  found  her." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  that  I  am  glad,"  answered 
father.     "  Do  you  want  to  leave  us,  Mab  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  daddy,"  cried    Mab,  running  to 


276  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

father's  side  and  grasping  his  arm.  "  I  don't 
want  to  go;  I  want  to  stay  with  you." 

"  But  this  is  not  your  home,"  interrupted 
the  gentleman.  "  Your  aunt  and  I  are  your 
natural  guardians,  and  our  home  is  the  proper 
place  for  you." 

"What  you  say  may  all  be  true,"  said  father, 
"  but  how  am  I  to  know  it  ? " 

"  Haven't  I  just  told  you  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case  ?  "  answered  the  gentle- 
man. "  The  girl  is  the  image  of  her  mother. 
Any  one  who  knew  my  sister  would  know 
that  this  girl  is  her  child." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  I  didn't  know  your  sis- 
ter," answered  father. 

Then  the  gentleman  grew  angry  and  said, 
"  My  good  man,  your  intentions  are  all 
right,  but  you  are  much  too  officious  in  this 
matter,  and  we  shall  have  to  insist  upon  the 
girl  coming  with  us  at  once." 

"  Again  I  ask  you,  do  you  want  to  go  with 
these  folks,  Mab  ?  "  asked  father. 

"  No,  no !  A  thousand  times  no !  "  cried 
the  girl,  clinging  to  father  and  beginning  to 
weep. 

"  Then,"  said  father,  addressing  the  gentle- 
men and  the  lady,  "  I  shall  have  to  ask  you 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  277 

to  go  outside  the  house  and  do  your  insisting, 
for  the  girl  shall  not  go  with  you  against  her 
will." 

"  I'll  bring  the  sheriff  and  take  her,"  an- 
swered the  gentleman,  angrily ;  "  I  won't  be 
bullied  by  an  old  fool  like  you." 

"  Go  and  get  the  sheriff  if  you  wish,"  said 
father,  "  but  go  quickly,  or  I'll  start  you  on 
your  way  with  my  boot.  I  reckon  you'll  have 
to  get  a  writ  from  the  court — a  writ  of  habeas 
corpus — before  the  sheriff  will  interfere.  The 
sheriff  happens  to  be  my  brother.  I  would 
like  to  call  your  attention  to  the  door.  You 
can  get  out  one  at  a  time,  I  reckon,  and  that'll 
be  fast  enough  for  me,  if  you  hurry." 

The  strangers  left  the  house,  declaring  that 
they  would  soon  return,  armed  by  the  law, 
and  would  "show  us." 

What  they  intended  to  show  us,  we  did  not 
know,  but  in  a  general  way  we  supposed  that 
they  meant  they  would  take  Mab  away  from 
us. 

That  was  a  sad  day  at  our  house.  Mab 
wept  nearly  all  afternoon,  and  clung  to  mother 
and  father,  and  to  my  sisters,  with  a  piteous 
appeal  for  protection. 

Balser  went  home  for  the  night;  and  next 


278  UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL 

day  we  went  back  to  the  cabin,  loaded  our  furs 
on  the  sleigh,  and  abandoned  our  quarters  for 
the  winter.  If  the  strangers  came  again  to 
take  Mab  away,  I  wanted  to  be  at  home  when 
they  arrived. 

We  lived  that  winter  in  constant  dread  of 
losing  Mab,  but  when  winter  turned  to  spring, 
and  spring  to  summer,  we  began  to  forget 
our  fear ;  and  by  fall  we  had  settled  down  to 
the  glad  belief  that  she  would  not  be  taken 
from  us. 

"  Did  you  go  back  to  get  the  bear  ?  "  asked 
a  small  boy. 

"  Indeed  we  did,"  answered  Uncle  Tom 
Andy  Bill.  "  It  weighed  nearly  five  hundred 
pounds  and  was  as  fat  as  butter." 

"  Did  you  get  his  hide  ?  "  asked  the  same 
boy. 

"Yes,"  answered  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
"  and  we  gave  it  to  Mab." 

All  the  older  members  of  Tom  Andy  Bill's 
audience  knew  that  Mab  had  been  his  one 
and  only  sweetheart ;  and  there  was  not  one 
among  us  whose  heart  did  not  beat  in  sorrow 
and  throb  with  love  for  grand  old  Tom  Andy 
Bill,  who  had  lived  his  long  life  true  to  his 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  279 

one  love,  and  would  die  with  her  image  and 
hers  alone  nestling  in  his  heart  of  hearts. 

Amidst  the  pictures  of  bears,  robbers, 
swamps,  and  caves  that  he  had  drawn  for 
our  entertainment,  I  could  see,  towering 
above  all,  the  tall,  strong  figure,  the  black, 
waving  hair,  the  dark,  grave  eyes,  glowing 
with  the  light  of  a  great  soul,  of  our  friend 
and  protector,  Tom  Andy  Bill.  He  had 
missed  the  best  thing  in  life,  —  the  love 
of  the  woman  he  loved,  —  but  he  had  known 
plentifully  the  next  best  thing  the  world  has 
to  offer*  that  is,  the  happiness  one  gives  to 
others. 

"  Wasn't  it  funny,  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill," 
said  Mab,  "  that  her  name  was  the  same  as 
mine  ?  " 

"  No,  it  wasn't  funny,  sweetheart.  It  was 
just  sad."  Tears  sprang  to  the  old  man's 
eyes,  and  they  came  to  other  eyes,  too,  as  he 
walked  off  to  bed  with  Baby  Mab  clinging  to 
his  finger. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WYANDOTTE    ONCE    MORE 

Balser  and  I  spent  the  following  winter 
also  in  our  cabin,  and  we  had  another  fine  lot 
of  furs,  which  wetookto  Cincinnati  just  as  soon 
as  the  road  was  good.  We  received  only  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  for  them,  but 
that  was  a  great  sum  in  those  days.  It  looked 
small  to  us,  however,  because  we  had  always 
in  mind  the  dream  of  Wyandotte's  treasure. 
We  had  settled  on  one  fact.  The  five  chests 
could  not  possibly  contain  less  than  five  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  that  sum  would  make  us 
rich. 

We  had  discussed  the  treasure  so  often, 
and  had  talked  about  it  so  much  between  our- 
selves, that  we  felt  as  if  it  were  already  ours, 
and  that,  with  a  little  patience,  we  would  pos- 
sess it.  We  had  never  mentioned  the  treasure 
even  to  the  folks  at  home.  I  confess  that  I 
did  tell  Mab  about  it ;  but  the  secret  was  as 
safe  with  her  as  it  was  with  me,  and  she  was 

280 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  281 

very  proud  to  feel  that  she  was  the  only  one 
besides  Balser  and  me  who  knew  about  it. 
Of  course,  Balser  didn't  know  that  I  had 
told  Mab. 

I  can't  explain  why  we  felt  so  sure  of  get- 
ting the  treasure,  but  this  I  know,  that  we 
never  doubted,  even  for  one  moment,  that  the 
gold  would  one  day  be  ours. 

On  the  road  to  Cincinnati  we  were  re- 
ceived as  heroes  at  the  inns  and  taverns,  and 
were  pointed  out  to  strangers  as  the  boys 
who  had  broken  up  the  Wolf  gang  two  years 
before.  We  could  have  stopped  at  any  tavern 
along  the  road  without  paying  a  cent  for  our 
meals  and  lodging,  but  we  loved  to  camp  out. 
We  took  our  time  going  and  returning,  and 
slept  under  the  wagon  every  pleasant  night. 

The  first  evening  out  of  Cincinnati,  on  our 
way  home,  we  camped  on  the  banks  of  a 
small  river — I  think  it  was  Whitewater. 
Camping  near  us  was  an  old  man  with  a  six- 
ox  team  and  an  enormous  schooner  wagon. 
A  schooner  wagon-bed  was  built  high  at 
each  end  like  the  old-fashioned  ships  in 
which  Columbus  crossed  the  sea,  and  would 
hold  nearly  as  much  as  one  could  store  in  a 
small  ship. 


282  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

When  we  reached  Whitewater,  we  found 
the  old  man  trying  to  corral  his  oxen.  An 
ox  is  a  very  stupid  brute,  but  when  a  fact 
once  penetrates  his  brain,  it  takes  complete 
possession  of  him.  If  he  realizes  that  his 
master  has  lost  control  of  him,  he  is  the  most 
stubborn,  aggravating  four-footed  creature 
that  breathes.  The  old  man's  oxen  had 
broken  loose,  and  he  was  in  trouble.  After 
we  had  unhitched  and  fed  our  horses,  we 
hastened  to  our  neighbor's  assistance  and 
soon  every  ox  was  knee-haltered  and  reduced 
to  submission. 

"  Much  obleeged,"  said  the  old  man.  "  My 
Indian  ran  away  this  noon,  and  I'm  lame,  as 
you  see.  These  fool  oxen  seem  to  know  that 
I  can't  manage  them  alone.  I'd  'a'  had  a 
powerful  hard  time  if  you  boys  hadn't  come 
to  my  help.  Thank  ye  a  heap.  Like  as  not 
ye'll  be  here  in  the  morning,  and  mebbe  I  kin 
git  ye  to  help  me  yoke  up.  The  oxen  are 
powerful  fine  critters,  but  they  haven't  been 
worked  for  two  months,  and  they're  feelin' 
their  oats.  Besides,  as  I  said,  they  know  I'm 
alone.  Reckon  they  won't  be  so  frisky  by 
the  time  they  git  to  Fort  Chicago." 

"  Where  is  Fort  Chicago  ?  "  asked  Balser. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  283 

"  It's  'way  up  on  the  lakes,"  answered  the 
old  man.  "  I  can't  tell  ye  where  it  is  'zactly, 
except  that  it's  in  Illinois  and  on  the  lake.  I 
'low  it'll  take  me  two  months  to  git  thar  with 
this  load  even  if  the  roads  keep  good.  If  the 
roads  git  bad,  Lord  only  knows  when  I'll  git 
thar.  I'm  haulin'  this  load  o'  goods  fer  the 
Astor  Fur  Company,  so  it's  all  right  if  I  git 
thar  by  winter,  to  have  the  goods  thar  in 
time  fer  the  trappers." 

We  invited  the  old  man  to  eat  supper  with 
us,  and  he  was  delighted  with  our  fare.  He 
had  nothing  to  eat  but  boiled  beans  and  salt 
pork,  and  he  said  he  was  so  tired  of  it  that 
he  dreaded  the  approach  of  meal-time.  His 
appetite  was  nothing  like  mine,  or  he  would 
have  welcomed  meal-time  though  he  had 
nothing  but  beans. 

Next  morning  we  helped  our  neighbor  to 
yoke  up,  and  when  we  were  about  to  leave 
him,  he  said :  — 

"  I  thank  ye,  boys,  fer  helpin'  me.  I  hain't 
got  a  piece  o'  money  to  my  name  or  I'd  pay 
ye." 

"  We  wouldn't  think  of  taking  a  cent,"  said 
Balser ;  "  but  if  you  have  no  money,  how  will 
you  manage  to  travel  so  far  ?  " 


284  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

"  I  carry  my  grub  in  the  wagon,"  said  he, 
"  and  camp  out,  rain  er  shine.  If  I  have  to 
buy  anything,  I  trade  goods  fer  it  if  I  kin. 
If  I  can't  trade,  I  go  without.  If  there's  any- 
thing I've  got  in  the  wagon  that  ye  want,  I'll 
give  it  to  ye,  and  welcome.  Like  as  not,  now, 
ye'd  like  to  have  a  little  powder  ?  " 

"  We  want  nothing,"  I  answered. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  get  along  by  your- 
self with  the  oxen  ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  Lord  only  knows.  I  don't,"  the  old  man 
replied.  "  Mebbe  I'll  be  able  to  find  a  man 
along  the  road  to  go  with  me  in  place  of  the 
one  that  run  away,  but  it  ain't  likely.  Fort 
Chicago  is  so  far,  and  men  don't  know  nothin' 
'bout  the  Fur  Company,  so  they  don't  want 
to  risk  workin'  fer  nothin',  and  findin'  them- 
selves broke  so  far  away  from  home  at  the 
end  o'  their  job." 

Balser  and  I  loved  the  gypsy  life  along  the 
road,  and  after  consulting  together,  we  agreed 
to  offer  the  old  fellow  our  help.  Balser  told 
me  to  speak  to  him,  so  before  we  started,  I 
said:  — 

"  We'll  stay  with  you  till  you  reach  Blue 
River,  and  maybe  you  can  find  a  man  there 
that  will  go  the  rest  of  the  way." 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  285 

"  I  can't  pay  ye,  boys,  'cept  in  goods,"  said 
the  old  man,  "and  it  would  be  mighty  poor 
pay,  for  the  company  only  'lows  three  bits  a 
day  fer  help  fer  this  wagon,  and  that'll  be 
mighty  little  fer  sech  fine  boys  as  ye  be." 

"  I  tell  you,  we  don't  want  pay,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  thank  ye  a  heap  more  than 
three  bits  a  day,"  said  our  new  friend. 

We  undertook  a  bigger  job  than  we  had 
counted  on,  for  the  oxen  moved  like  snails 
compared  with  our  horses,  and  we  frequently 
had  to  wait  half  a  day  for  the  old  man  to  over- 
take us;  but  we  were  in  no  hurry  and  enjoyed 
loitering  along  the  road,  talking  about  the 
treasure  and  camping  out.  The  weather  was 
beautiful  and  the  road  was  fine,  but  it  took  us 
nearly  a  week  to  get  to  Blue  River. 

Before  we  reached  home  we  had  learned  to 
like  the  old  man,  and  when  one  evening  he 
unyoked  on  the  banks  of  Blue,  we  were 
sorry  to  part  from  him. 

We  came  down  from  home  early  next 
morning  and  tried  to  find  a  man  to  go  with 
him,  but  after  asking  every  idle  fellow  in  the 
village  of  Blue  River,  we  returned  to  our 
friend  and  told  him  that  we  had  failed. 

"  I    didn't    'low    ye  could  find  one,"  said 


286  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

the  old  man.  "  It's  hard  to  git  any  one  to 
work  fer  the  Fur  Company  'cept  Indians 
and  half  breeds.  The  fellow  that  run  away 
from  me  was  a  half  breed.  His  father  was 
a  Frenchman  and  his  mother  was  a  Wyan- 
dotte." 

Balser  and  I  sprang  to  our  feet  at  the 
word  "Wyandotte"  and  asked  in  chorus :  — 

"  Where  did  you  find  him  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  come  from  a  tribe  of  Indians 
that  spent  the  winter  out  west  o'  Fort  Chi- 
cago somewhere.  They  say  there's  a  bunch 
o'  Wyandottes  among  them  —  the  last  o'  the 
tribe  — and  I'm  told  that  the  old  Wyandotte 
chief  is  their  chief." 

Perhaps  you  think  that  Balser  and  I  were 
not  excited. 

"  Tom  Andy  Bill,  I  want  to  speak  to  you !  " 
Balser  said.  We  went  off  to  a  little  distance, 
and  he  continued  :  "  Here's  our  chance.  Let's 
go  with  the  old  man." 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I,  which  meant, 
"  I'm  with  you." 

Then  we  went  back  to  the  old  man,  and  I 
acted  as  spokesman :  — 

"  You  stay  here  till  to-morrow  and  maybe 
we'll  go  with  you  !  " 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  287 

"  If  ye  will,  I'll  try  to  get  the  company  to 
double  the  wages,"  he  answered,  "  and  they 
will  pay  you  in  cash  when  you  git  to  Fort 
Chicago." 

Balser  and  I  hurried  home  and  told  our 
folks  that  we  had  an  opportunity  to  go  to 
Fort  Chicago  with  the  old  man  at  good 
wages,  and  after  considerable  discussion  dur- 
ing the  evening,  they  partially  consented, 
though  our  mothers  did  so  very  reluctantly. 

Next  morning  Balser  came  down,  and  while 
we  were  talking  over  the  proposition  with 
father  and  mother,  Mab  didn't  once  take  her 
eyes  off  me.  When  it  was  settled  that  we 
were  to  go,  she  left  the  room  and  went  out 
to  the  back  porch.  In  a  moment  "or  two  I 
followed,  and  found  her  crying. 

"  Are  you  crying,  Mab  ? "  I  asked. 

"  No-0-0,"  she  answered,  turning  her  face 
from  me. 

"  I'll  not  go  if  you  want  me  to  stay,"  I 
said,  hoping  in  my  heart  she  would  ask  me 
not  to  go. 

"  No,  no,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  she  replied, 
turning  toward  me,  careless  of  her  tears. 
"  You  must  go.  You  must  not  think  of 
me.     I  would  not  stand  in  your  way  for  a 


288  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

moment,  and  I  know  I  am  very  foolish  to 
cry.  But  Nan  and  Betty  and  Sue  are  cry- 
ing, and  I  don't  see  why  I,  too,  can't  cry." 

"  There  is  this  difference,  Mab,"  I  an- 
swered. "  Your  tears  hurt  me,  burn  me,  and 
I  would  not  cause  you  one  moment's  grief 
for  anything  in  the  world." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Tom  Andy  Bill.  You  are 
always  thinking  of  my  happiness,  and  I'll 
not  cry  any  more.  I'll — I'll — I'll  be  glad 
that  so  good  a  chance  has  come  to  you. 
I'm  not  crying  now."  But  she  was  crying, 
though  she  tried  to  laugh. 

Soon  my  sisters  came  out  to  the  porch, 
and  —  and  —  well,  the  widespread  misery  I 
was  creating  might  have  been  considered  a 
luxury  by  some  boys,  for  all  my  sisters  were 
sweet,  beautiful  girls,  and  Mab  was  without 
a  peer ;  but  their  tears  made  me  suffer. 

"  It's  all  off,  girls,  it's  all  off.  I'll  not  go  a 
step ! "  said  I,  tossing  my  hands  in  the  air. 
But  then  came  a  chorus  of  protests  and  tears 
and  a  shower  of  kisses,  —  kisses  from  all  save 
Mab,  —  and  I  said  I  would  go  if  they  insisted 
upon  it.  My  sisters  soon  stopped  crying,  but 
Mab  could  not  stop,  and  Nan,  good,  tender, 
motherly  Nan,  put  her  arm  about  her  and 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  289 

told  her  not  to  cry,  —  that  Tom  Andy  Bill 
would  be  home  again  before  long. 

Mab  answered  between  her  sobs :  "  Yes,  I 
know  he'll  be  back.  I'm  foolish,  but —  I  feel 
—  something  tells  me  —  that  I'll  never  see 
him  again,  and  —  and — oh,  I'm  so  ashamed 
of  myself,  but  I  can't  help  it,  Nan,  I  can't 
help  it." 

Balser  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  gate,  so 
my  sisters  kissed  me  again,  and  I  saw  Nan 
motion  to  Betty  and  Sue  to. leave.  When 
they  had  gone  into  the  house,  Nan  kissed  me 
and  took  Mab  by  the  hand,  saying,  "  Tom 
Andy  Bill  is  your  brother,  too,  Mab."  Then 
she  led  her  to  me  and  hurried  into  the  house, 
and  —  and  —  well,  I  —  I  —  can't  tell  you 
about  that 

Balser  and  I  found  the  old  man  waiting  for 
us,  and  he  was  overjoyed  when  we  said  we 
would  go  with  him. 

At  Cincinnati  we  had  purchased  two  fine 
saddles  with  enormous  saddle-bags.  We  had 
also  bought  two  beautiful  short-barrel,  smooth- 
bore guns,  in  which  we  could  use  either  a 
large  bullet  or  bird  shot.  We  each  took  a 
vast  store  of  ammunition,  a  fine  woollen 
blanket,  a  new  buckskin  suit,  and  an  extra 


2QO  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

pair  of  boots.  We  rode  a  pair  of  fine  horses, 
and  in  fact  we  had  an  outfit  good  enough  for 
any  dandy  traveller. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  May  when  we 
started.  We  did  not  reach  Fort  Chicago  till 
the  last  week  in  June,  and  that  was  considered 
a  record-breaking  trip.  Chicago,  at  that  time, 
consisted  of  a  few  houses  built  in  the  midst 
of  the  muddiest  mud  I  ever  saw.  Soon  after 
we  reached  there,  Balser  and  I  began  making 
cautious  inquiries  about  Indians. 

Every  day  brought  numbers  of  the  redskins 
to  the  Fur  Company's  quarters,  and  we  con- 
trived to  question  most  of  them  about  the 
Wyandottes.  We  were  always  on  our  guard 
when  asking  questions  concerning  the  rem- 
nant of  the  tribe,  for  our  secret  was  so  precious 
we  feared  it  would  leak  out  with  every 
word  we  spoke.  There  was,  of  course,  little 
danger  of  our  betraying  our  thoughts;  but  if 
you  will  let  five  thousand  dollars  rest  on  your 
mind  for  two  or  three  years,  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  else,  you'll  learn  what  a  burden 
gold  really  may  be. 

Balser  and  I  had  grown  to  be  monoma- 
niacs on  the  subject  of  the  treasure,  but  Bal- 
ser's  affliction  was  more  serious  than  mine. 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  291 

He  lived  and  breathed  treasure,  and  dreamed 
of  it  open-eyed  and  asleep. 

The  Fur  Company  paid  us  double  wages, 
as  our  old  friend  had  promised,  and  we  were 
eager  to  get  away  and  to  learn  the  where- 
abouts of  the  lost  tribe  of  Wyandottes. 

We  had  been  waiting  nearly  a  week  at 
Fort  Chicago  when,  by  the  merest  accident, 
Balser  stumbled  upon  an  Indian  who  was 
just  leaving  the  fort.  Balser  addressed  him 
by  the  salutation  we  had  learned  from  Wyan- 
dotte, and  the  Indian,  who  was  surprised  and 
seemed  pleased,  responded  in  the  same  tongue. 

"  Do  you  speak  English  ?  "  asked   Balser. 

"  Leetle  spik  him,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"  Are  you  a  Wyandottte  ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  Yes,  Wyandotte,"  he  answered. 

"  I  love  Wyandotte,"  said  Balser.  "  My 
friend  loves  Wyandotte.  We  cry  because 
the  Wyandottes  were  treated  so  cruelly  by 
the  bad  whites." 

The  Indian  began  to  talk  rapidly  for  an 
Indian,  and  Balser  invited  him  to  the  cabin 
we  were  occupying  on  the  skirts  of  the  fort. 
There  we  gave  the  Indian  a  few  presents 
and  asked  him  where  his  tribe  was.  He 
told  us  that  the  few   remaining  Wyandotte 


292  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Indians  had  joined  with  a  band  of  Winneba- 
goes  that  had  come  down  from  the  north,  and 
that  they  were  all  living  now  in  the  prairies 
west  of  Chicago,  toward  the  great  Father  of 
Waters,  the  Mississippi. 

Balser  and  I  were  overjoyed  at  the  news, 
and  told  him  we  were  going  in  that  direc- 
tion. We  said  he  might  travel  with  us  if 
he  wished,  and  that  we  meant  to  stop  with 
his  tribe  for  a  while  and  would  give  them 
presents. 

We  hastily  saddled  our  horses,  packed  our 
saddle-bags,  and  off  we  went  with  the  Indian, 
whose  name  was  Broken  Toe. 

That  night  we  camped  in  the  prairie,  feast- 
ing on  prairie  hens.  The  next  night  we  also 
camped  in  the  prairie,  and  Broken  Toe  told 
us  we  should  reach  the  Indian  village  next 
day  at  "  half  sun,"  that  is,  noon.  We  knee- 
haltered  our  horses,  placed  our  saddle-bags, 
guns,  etc.,  under  a  waterproof  canvas,  rolled 
ourselves  in  our  blankets,  and  went  to  sleep. 

When  we  awoke  in  the  morning,  Broken 
Toe  was  missing.  So  were  our  horses, 
saddles,  saddle-bags,  and  guns.  We  were 
left  with  nothing  but  our  blankets  and  the 
clothing  we  wore.    The  sky  was  overclouded, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  293 

and  we  could  not  see  the  sun.  We  could 
not  tell  east  from  west,  nor  north  from  south. 
On  every  hand  the  flat,  grass-covered  prairie 
was  bounded  only  by  the  horizon.  No  ob- 
ject of  any  sort  broke  the  dead  level  as  far  as 
our  eyes  could  reach.  We  had  not  a  mouth- 
ful to  eat,  nor  any  means  of  procuring  food. 
When  we  awakened  we  were  very  hungry, 
but  the  realization  of  our  desperate  condi- 
tion drove  all  thoughts  of  breakfast  from  our 
minds. 

After  gazing  about  us  helplessly  for  a  few 
moments,  Balser  said :  — 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  this  ?  " 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  I  answered.  "  Let  us 
start  in  some  direction,  and  we'll  soon  raise 
something  above  the  horizon." 

We  folded  our  blankets,  threw  them  over 
our  shoulders,  and  prepared  to  march. 

"  Which  way  shall  we  go  ?  "  asked  Balser. 

"  I  don't  care,  so  that  we  get  to  moving  in 
some  direction,"  I  answered.  "  If  we  could 
only  see  the  sun  for  a  moment,  it  would  at 
least  be  some  satisfaction  to  know  the  points 
of  the  compass.  We  are  as  badly  lost  here 
in  daylight  as  we  were  in  the  darkness  of 
the  cave,  but  we  have  this  advantage ;    we 


294  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

can  keep  on  going.  Which  way  shall  we 
go?" 

"  We'll  go  with  the  wind,"  suggested  Balser. 

"  That's  the  word,"  said  I. 

Balser  tossed  a  handful  of  dry  grass  into 
the  air,  and  we  started  off  with  the  wind. 
Soon  after  we  had  started  rain  began  to  fall. 
The  rain  made  us  very  uncomfortable,  and 
we  grumbled  because  our  blankets  and  cloth- 
ing were  wet,  but  a  man  often  finds  fault  with 
the  very  thing  he  needs. 

Before  the  rain  we  had  been  walking  along 
aimlessly;  there  was  nothing  to  guide  us. 
But  within  an  hour  after  the  rain  began,  the 
ground  became  soft,  and  soon  we  noticed  the 
tracks  of  two  horses.  Had  the  rain  not 
softened  the  soil,  we  could  not  have  seen  the 
tracks,  and  we  might  have  been  wandering 
over  the  boundless  prairie  yet.  We  knew 
that  the  tracks  we  saw  had  been  left  by  our 
horses,  for  ours  were  shod,  while  the  Indian's 
horse  never  knows  the  luxury  of  a  shoe. 

The  horse  tracks  gave  us  new  life,  and  we 
followed  up  the  trail  at  a  rapid  walk.  We 
were  growing  very  tired,  when,  toward  even- 
ing, I  noticed  on  the  horizon,  almost  in  front 
of  us,  a  blue  spiral  of  smoke.    As  the  day 


UNCLE   TOM   ANDY   BILL  295 

was  misty  and  the  atmosphere  thick,  I  knew 
the  smoke  could  not  be  seen  at  a  great  dis- 
tance; therefore  I  felt  sure  that  within  an 
hour  we  should  at  least  find  fire,  and  where 
fire  is,  man  is  not  far  distant.  The  smoke 
rose  higher  and  higher  as  we  drew  near  it, 
and  before  long  we  easily  distinguished  the 
skin-covered  tents  or  tepees  of  an  Indian 
village. 

We  had  little  fear  of  the  Indians  except 
for  the  fact  that  they  had  stolen  our  horses 
and  might  want  to  kill  us  to  hide  their  theft. 
We  were  soaked  to  the  skin,  almost  starved, 
and  without  means  of  getting  food.  We 
were  nearly  exhausted,  and  had  no  choice 
but  to  appeal  to  the  Indians  for  help.  We 
therefore  marched  as  boldly  as  possible  right 
into  the  village,  though,  to  tell  the  truth,  all 
the  boldness  was  on  the  outside  and  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  fear  within.  We  both 
wished  ourselves  well  at  home  and  once  more 
felt  like  cursing  the  Wyandotte  treasure. 

The  first  sight  that  greeted  our  eyes  on 
entering  the  village  was  our  horses.  The 
second  object  we  observed  was  a  pack  of 
hungry-looking,  vicious  dogs  that  charged 
down  upon  us  with  an  evident  eye  to  supper 


296  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

The  barking  of  the  dogs  aroused  the  Indians, 
and  we  were  soon  surrounded  by  half  a  hun- 
dred men,  women,  and  children,  all  talking, 
shouting,  and  howling  at  once.  In  their 
midst  was  Broken  Toe,  who  seemed  to  be 
their  leader.  The  Indian  men  immediately 
formed  a  ring  about  us,  and  began  a  most 
disconcerting  war-dance  with  two  badly 
frightened  boys  in  the  center.  The  war- 
dance  now  meant  death  to  us  later  on. 

"  We're  goners  this  time,"  said  Balser. 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I. 

The  Indians  kept  up  their  absurd  dancing 
and  war-whoops,  and  soon  their  crazy  antics 
became  amusing  to  me.  I  laughed,  and 
Balser  said :  — 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  Tom  Andy  Bill, 
don't  laugh.  Don't  you  know  they're  going 
to  kill  us  ?  Do  you  see  that  red  devil  coming 
on  the  jump  with  his  tomahawk  ? " 

"Don't  say  a  word," said  I.  "  The  Indians 
will  think  none  the  less  of  us  for  laughing  at 
them.  If  a  man  laughs  when  he  dies,  he 
takes  all  the  sting  out  of  death." 

11  Good  Lord,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  you  freeze 
my  blood,"  said  Balser.  "  There  comes  an- 
other fiend  with  a  knife  as  long  as  my  arm." 


"  III     MADE   A   THRUST   AT   MI    AS    II     KB    INTENDED   TO    HIDE   HIS 
KNIFE-BLADE    IN    MY   BODY  " 


UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL  297 

The  Indian  with  the  long  knife  sprang 
howling  into  the  circle,  and  made  a  thrust  at 
me  as  if  he  intended  to  hide  his  knife-blade 
in  my  body.  I  didn't  flinch.  I  laughed  at 
him.  Then  a  double-jointed  giant  sprang  in 
front  of  Balser  and  raised  his  murderous-look- 
ing tomahawk  above  his  head.  I  thought 
Balser's  hour  had  come  at  last,  but  I  said : 

"  Don't  say  a  word.     Laugh." 

Balser  didn't  look  as  if  he  wanted  to  laugh, 
but  he  sent  forth  a  peal  that  was  a  pretty  good 
imitation  of  the  real  thing. 

Indians  don't  laugh,  therefore  they  don't 
fully  understand  the  meaning  of  laughter. 
In  a  dim  way  they  seem  to  comprehend  that 
it  means,  "Do  your  worst;  I  don't  care  a 
straw ! "  and  of  all  the  sentiments  a  man  can 
express,  the  Indian  respects  that  most. 

Presently  another  Indian  sprang  in  front 
of  me,  and  with  a  demoniac  howl  flourished 
his  tomahawk  above  my  head.  I  laughed  at 
him  and  waved  him  off  with  a  turn  of  my 
hand,  as  if  to  say,  "  Oh,  stop  your  foolishness !" 
when  he  joined  the  howling  jumping-jacks 
that  surrounded  us. 

After  the  men  had  danced  about  us  till  they 
were  tired,  they  gave  way  to  the  squaws,  who 


298  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

formed  another  circle.  One  old  hag  left  the 
ring  and  spat  upon  me.  I  laughed  and  spat 
back  at  her,  as  if  we  were  playing  a  game  at 
a  frolic. 

The  Indian's  most  expressive  and  useful 
word  is  a  grunt,  "  Ugh?  It  may  mean  anger, 
disgust,  assent,  refusal,  and  on  rare  occasions 
it  is  used  to  express  the  meagre  sensation  of 
amusement  they  sometimes  feel.  A  strong 
emotion  of  joy,  or  a  feeling  of  what  we  would 
call  amusement,  the  Indian  expresses,  if  at  all, 
in  howls,  whoops,  and  shouts.  While  the  old 
hag  and  I  were  playing  our  little  game,  I  dis- 
tinctly heard  several  Indian  men  give  utter- 
ance to  the  grunt  "  Ugh." 

I  was  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  various 
intonations  of  the  sound  and  could  imper- 
fectly guess  at  their  significance,  as  one  may 
learn  the  different  meanings  of  a  dog's  bark, 
so  I  gathered  that  our  little  game  had,  in 
a  way,  amused  the  bucks.  After  dancing 
about  us  for  ten  minutes,  the  squaws  fell 
upon  Balser  and  me  and  stripped  us  of  most 
of  our  clothing.  They  took  our  blankets, 
hats,  coats,  and  shoes,  and  left  us  only  our 
trousers.  Then  they  ran  away,  grunting 
and  cackling. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  299 

After  we  had  stood  alone  for  the  space  of 
three  or  four  minutes,  I  noticed  a  dozen  war- 
riors coming  toward  us,  as  if  they  were  trying 
to  steal  upon  their  prey.  Broken  Toe  was 
in  the  lead.  I  also  noticed  that  two  of  the 
men  carried  in  their  hands,  behind  them,  lar- 
iats or  ropes  of  leather.  At  first,  I  thought 
they  intended  to  hang  us,  but  I  soon  called 
to  mind  the  fact  that  Indians  never  inflict 
death  by  hanging.  I  also  reflected  that  there 
was  not  a  tree  in  sight,  and  I  knew  there  was 
not  enough  timber  within  a  radius  of  twenty 
miles  to  build  a  scaffold.  I  therefore  con- 
cluded that  the  redskins  were  stealing  upon 
us  for  the  purpose  of  overpowering  us  by  a 
sudden  attack,  and  binding  our  hands  and 
feet. 

"  Good-by,  Tom  Andy  Bill,"  said  Balser, 
dolefully ;  "  they're  going  to  hang  us." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  I  answered  hur- 
riedly ;  "  I  wasn't  born  to  be  hung.  They 
mean  to  throw  us  to  the  ground  and  then 
bind  us.    Let's  save  them  part  of  the  trouble." 

When  the  Indians  approached,  I  walked 
toward  them,  holding  my  arms  extended  and 
my  wrists  together,  ready  to  be  bound.  The 
Indians  stopped,  but  I  continued  to  go  toward 


3oo  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

them,  holding  out  my  wrists  for  the  lariat 
I  stopped  in  front  of  one  of  the  men  with 
the  ropes,  and  Balser  stopped  in  front  of 
the  other.  Our  conduct  inspired  a  series  of 
grunts. 

"  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh,"  in  all  its  inflections  fell 
upon  our  ears.  We  could  not  interpret  the 
grunts,  but  presently  Broken  Toe  made  a 
sign  to  the  men  with  the  lariats,  and  they 
proceeded  to  bind  our  wrists.  When  this 
pleasing  job  was  finished,  I  stepped  up  to 
Broken  Toe  and  spoke  the  one  word 
"  Friend  "  ;  but  he  grunted  a  contemptuous 
"  Ugh,"  and  touched  his  knife  significantly. 

I  waited  for  thirty  seconds,  and  then  I  said : 
"  Hungry.  Eat.  Drink."  Again  a  chorus 
of  grunts  greeted  us,  and  all  the  Indians  be- 
gan to  talk  at  once.  We  could  not  under- 
stand what  they  were  saying,  but  it  was 
evident  they  were  arguing  the  question  of 
our  fate.  Some  of  the  Indians  apparently 
wanted  to  befriend  us;  but  Broken  Toe, 
being  the  one  who  had  stolen  our  horses, 
seemed  to  oppose  all  kindly  intentions. 
After  a  great  deal  of  grunting  and  talking, 
Broken  Toe  made  an  angry  gesture,  accom- 
panied by  some  words  of  command.     There- 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  301 

upon  two  Indians  took  charge  of  Balser,  and 
two  grasped  my  arms.  Broken  Toe  walked 
off  toward  the  other  end  of  the  village,  and 
we  were  forced  to  follow.  We  soon  came 
to  an  open  space  surrounded  by  tepees,  and 
there  one  of  the  Indians  said  in  English,  "Sit 
down." 

We  gladly  obeyed,  for  we  were  very  tired. 
The  thongs  of  leather  were  removed  from 
our  wrists ;  our  arms  were  bent  behind  us,  and 
in  that  position  we  were  tied.  Then  the 
Indians  bound  our  ankles.  The  brutes  drew 
the  lariats  so  tight  that  I  saw  blood  spurt 
from  Balser's  wrists,  and  felt  blood  trickling 
down  my  hands  behind  me. 

"Curse  the  brutes,"  cried  Balser.  "I'll 
never  again  say  a  good  word  for  an  Indian. 
I'm  almost  dead  now.  If  they  are  going  to 
kill  us,  I  wish  they'd  do  it  at  once." 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  said  I.  "  While  there's 
life  there's  hope,  and  I'll  bet  you  my  half  of 
Wyandotte's  treasure  that  we'll  get  out  of 
this  all  right.  Brace  up,  old  fellow,  and 
laugh.  Make  the  red  devils  think  that  the 
lariat  tickles  you  !  " 

I  began  to  whistle,  though  it  was  pretty 
hard  work,  and  when  the  Indians  turned  to 


3o2  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

look  at  me  in  wonder,  I  spoke  to  Balser, 
laughing  as  if  it  were  all  a  huge  joke.  Bal- 
ser,  too,  laughed,  and  I  called  to  Broken  Toe, 
saying :  — 

"I'm  hungry,  give  me  something  to  eat; 
and  I'm  thirsty,  give  me  something  to  drink ! " 

But  soon  the  Indians  left  us,  and  when  they 
had  gone,  I  thought  I  was  going  to  collapse. 
As  usual,  I  was  brave  when  some  one  was 
looking  on.  I  do  believe  I  should  have  cried 
if  Balser  had  crooked  his  finger  at  me,  but  he 
couldn't  do  it,  being  bound;  so  I  soon  began 
to  whistle  to  keep  my  courage  up.  Balser 
began  to  groan,  but  I  checked  him,  saying : 

"  Be  game,  Balser,  be  game !  You've  got 
to  die  sometime.  If  you  die  now,  it  will 
save  you  the  trouble  later  on.  Always  finish 
a  bad  job  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  don't  mind  for  myself,"  he  answered, 
almost  ready  for  tears,  "  but  I'm  thinking  of 
how  poor  mother  will  wait  and  grieve  for  me 
through  all  the  years  of  her  life.  She  will 
never  know  my  fate ;  neither  will  your  mother 
nor  Mab  ever  know." 

"  Ah,  Balser,  please  don't !  don't !  I  had 
worked  myself  into  fine  shape,  but  the  thought 
of  Mab  and  my  mother — oh!  don't,  don't! 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  303 

You  mustn't  think  of  such  things  now. 
Drive  such  thoughts  out  of  your  mind,  and 
we'll  show  these  demons  how  to  die.  That's 
the  one  thing  they  know  better  how  to  do 
than  we." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  know  how,"  answered 
Balser. 

"Well,  you'll  know  before  long,  if  I'm  not 
mistaken,  so  laugh  while  you  can,  for  the  time 
will  soon  come  when  you'll  laugh  no  more. 
I  don't  know  how  they're  going  to  kill  us, 
but  it  does  look  dark  for  us.  However,  I'll 
stick  to  my  bet,  and  I'll  wager  my  half  of  the 
treasure  that  we  get  out  of  the  scrape  yet. 
There's  no  use  taking  the  darker  view  of  it 
until  there's  no  other  view  to  take,  and  I'm 
sorry  I  said  you  would  not  have  long  to 
laugh.  You  have  many  a  laugh  ahead  of 
you  yet,  Balser.  Cheer  up !  Cheer  up,  and 
take  my  wager." 

"  Tom  Andy  Bill,  I  believe  you're  crazy," 
said  Balser,  "  but  if  you  are,  I  wish  I  could 
go  crazy,  too,  or  that  these  redskins  would 
hurry  up  and  finish  us." 

We  were  sitting  on  the  ground,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and  of  course  could  not  rise. 

Balser  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when 


3o4  UNCLE   TOM  ANDY   BILL 

two  old  squaws  came  toward  us,  one  bearing 
a  bucket  of  water  and  the  other  carrying  a 
pan  of  cornmeal  mush.  They  placed  the 
bucket  and  the  pan  on  the  ground,  and  kneel- 
ing close  beside  us,  teasingly  offered  first  the 
water  and  then  the  mush ;  but  our  hands  being 
bound,  we  could  take  neither.  This  evidently 
was  great  sport  to  the  hags,  for  they  grunted 
and  cackled  gleefully.  They  had  no  inten- 
tion of  giving  us  food,  but  evidently  had  been 
sent  by  Broken  Toe  to  torment  us. 

In  the  pan  of  mush  was  a  great  wooden 
spoon.  One  of  the  squaws,  dipping  out  a 
spoonful  of  mush,  held  it  toward  my  mouth. 
I  leaned  forward  to  take  the  mush,  but  when 
my  lips  touched  it,  I  found  that  it  was  scald- 
ing hot,  and  quickly  drew  away.  This  also 
seemed  to  amuse  the  hags ;  and  to  make  the 
joke  doubly  funny,  she  thrust  the  hot  mush 
in  my  face.  The  pain  was  excruciating,  but 
I  laughed.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
would  not  give  these  red  demons  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  I  could  suffer  pain. 

Just  as  the  old  hag  thrust  the  mush  in  my 
face,  several  men  approached.  The  humor- 
ous squaw  was  kneeling  near  my  feet  and  the 
pan   of  mush  was  just  behind  her.     I  con- 


UNCLE   TOM  ANDY  BILL  305 

tinued  to  laugh,  but  I  wanted  to  kill  the  old 
she-devil ;  so  I  lifted  my  feet,  and  as  if  I  were 
carrying  out  the  joke,  kicked  her  in  the  face 
and  she  fell  backward.  My  part  of  the  jest 
proved  better  than  I  had  hoped,  for  she 
quickly  stretched  out  her  hand  to  keep  from 
falling  backward,  and  put  it  in  the  hot  mush. 
Then  a  howl  went  up  that  might  have  been 
heard  all  over  the  village.  It  was  the  sweet- 
est note  I  ever  heard  come  from  an  Indian's 
lips,  and  I  laughed  in  real  earnest.  In  a 
moment  the  squaw  was  upon  me,  belaboring 
my  head  with  the  wooden  spoon ;  but  one  of 
the  men  whom  I  fancied  had  spoken  in  our 
behalf  when  we  first  entered  the  village  came 
to  my  rescue,  thrust  her  violently  from  me, 
gave  her  two  or  three  kicks,  and  sent  her 
about  her  business. 

The  Indian  spoke  to  the  other  squaw,  and 
she  poured  a  little  of  the  water  into  the  mush 
to  cool  it.  She  then  held  the  rim  of  the 
bucket  to  our  lips,  and  we  drank.  I  tell  you, 
the  delicious  ecstasy  one  finds  in  a  drink  of 
water  is  well  worth  a  day  of  thirst.  After 
we  had  drunk  our  fill,  the  squaw  fed  us  the 
mush  and  we  felt  much  better.  When  we 
had  eaten,  we  were  left  to  ourselves. 


3o6  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

Soon  after  the  sun  had  gone  down,  we 
heard  in  another  part  of  the  village  a  faint, 
low  chant  rising  and  falling  with  the  gusts  of 
wind. 

"  That  chant  is  our  funeral  song,"  said 
Balser. 

I  feared  he  was  right,  but  I  tried  to  think 
of  something  else,  though  with  little  success. 
Presently  we  saw  the  light  of  a  fire  a  short 
distance  off. 

"  There  comes  a  man  with  an  armful  of 
wood,"  said  Balser.  "  And  there  comes  an- 
other !  I  do  believe  the  red  devils  are  going 
to  burn  us !  " 

"  Don't  saya  word,"  said  I,  trying  to  whistle, 
but  it  did  look  very  much  as  if  he  were 
right. 

Within  less  than  ten  minutes  after  we  saw 
the  fire,  the  men  came  howling  and  bounding 
into  the  open  space  that  surrounded  Balser 
and  me.  The  redskins  were  in  full  war  paint 
and  feathers.  Some  of  them  had  their  arms 
full  of  wood,  which  they  threw  down  within 
ten  yards  of  where  Balser  and  I  lay. 
Presently  a  buck  ran  back  to  the  fire  we  had 
first  seen,  and  soon  returned,  waving  on  high 
a  burning  brand.     As  he  passed  us,  he  thrust 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  307 

it  in  Balser's  face,  and  would  have  burned 
him  had  he  not  quickly  fallen  backward. 

"  Laugh,"  I  whispered.  Balser  laughed, 
but  I  never  want  to  hear  another  laugh  like 
that. 

Soon  the  redskins  had  a  great  fire  blazing 
in  front  of  us.  When  it  was  well  under  way, 
they  formed  a  circle  about  us  and  began  to 
whoop  and  howl  and  dance.  The  glow  of 
the  fire  on  the  painted  faces  of  the  Indians 
made  them  look  like  demons,  and  the  lights 
and  shadows  dancing  about  like  infernal  imps 
made  the  place  look  like  a  scene  from  the 
very  depths  of  the  inferno. 

The  men  danced  and  howled  for  a  long  time, 
perhaps  for  half  an  hour,  and  judging  from 
the  preparations  they  were  making  with  the 
fire,  I  felt  sure  they  were  getting  ready  to 
burn  us,  and  would  soon  have  us  roasting  on 
a  bed  of  coals. 

I  said  to  Balser :  "  I  withdraw  that  bet. 
It  will  soon  be  all  over,  old  boy,  but  die  like 
a  man.     Game  is  the  word." 

"  Don't  fear  for  me,"  he  answered ;  "  I  am 
ready.     The  devils  can't  begin  too  soon." 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  when  four  Indians 
rushed  in  upon  us,  lifted  us  rudely  to  our  feet, 


308  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

and  began  to  drag  us  toward  the  great  bed  of 
coals.  When  we  came  within  twenty  feet  of 
the  fire,  the  Indians  stopped.  During  the 
little  space  of  time  in  which  we  were  being 
dragged  toward  the  fire,  I  happened  to  think 
of  the  name  "  Monyomo."  When  the  men 
who  had  us  in  charge  paused,  the  howling  of 
the  redskins  ceased,  and  a  brief  silence  en- 
sued; then  I  lifted  my  face  toward  the  sky 
and  shouted  the  words :  "  Wyandotte  Wy- 
olyo  ! !    Monyomo  ! ! " 

The  result  was  magical,  and  I  saw  the  In- 
dians start  and  look  toward  me  in  surprise. 
I  thought  if  a  little  was  good,  a  great  deal 
was  better,  so  lifting  my  head  and  looking 
toward  the  sky,  I  again  called  out  in  long- 
drawn  syllables :  — 

"  Wy  —  an  —  dotte  Wy — ol  —  yo ! !  Mon- 
yo-o-o-mo-o ! ! " 

After  a  long  pause  I  again  made  my  in- 
cantation. When  I  ceased  the  men  drew 
away  from  us  to  a  short  distance,  speaking 
in  hushed,  awe-stricken  voices  the  words 
"  Wyandotte  Wyolyo — Wyandotte  Wyolyo." 
Broken  Toe  seemed  to  insist  upon  burning 
us,  but  others  opposed  him.  After  a  long 
consultation,  two  of  them  ran  toward  a  large 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  309 

tepee  standing  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant from  us.  Soon  they  came  running  back 
and  said  something  to  the  other  Indians. 
Immediately  the  thongs  were  removed  from 
our  ankles,  and  one  of  the  Indians  said, 
"  Come."  He  started  toward  the  large  tepee, 
and  we  gladly  followed,  with  Broken  Toe 
grumbling  at  our  heels.  When  we  reached 
the  wigwam,  Broken  Toe  and  another  Indian 
entered  with  us,  and  there,  by  the  dim  light 
of  a  small  torch,  we  saw  our  old  friend  Wy- 
andotte lying  on  a  blanket. 

"  Tomandybilladdison?"  asked  Wyandotte, 
in  a  weak  voice. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Balserbrent  ? "  the  old  Indian  asked,  and 
Balser  said :  — 

"  Yes." 

Wyandotte  lay  still  for  a  moment ;  then  he 
said  something  in  the  Indian  language,  and 
Broken  Toe  held  the  torch,  first  to  my  face, 
then  to  Balser's.  The  old  man  rose  to  his 
elbow,  waved  his  hand  to  Broken  Toe,  and 
said,  "  Ugh  ! " 

My  ears,  sharpened  by  every  instinct  I 
possessed,  caught  the  intonation  of  the  word, 
and  in   some   mysterious  way  I  seemed  to 


3io  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

know  that  our  lives  were  saved  if  Wyandotte 
could  save  them. 

"  We're  all  right,"  I  whispered  aside  to 
Balser,  and  turning  to  Wyandotte,  I  in- 
quired :    "  Are  you  sick,  Wyandotte  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  to  die,"  answered  the  old  Indian, 
falling  back  upon  his  bed.  He  was  almost 
exhausted  by  the  effort  he  had  made ;  but 
after  he  had  regained  a  little  strength,  he 
spoke  to  the  Indians,  and  the  thongs  were  re- 
moved from  our  wrists.  My  hands  were  life- 
less, and  I  feared  that  I  should  never  again 
be  able  to  use  them.  I  could  not  have  lifted 
a  straw  from  the  ground. 

We  waited  anxiously  for  Wyandotte  to 
speak;  and  by  and  by  he  said,  pointing  to 
Broken  Toe,  who  was  standing  just  inside 
the  tepee  door :  — 

"  Broken  Toe  stole  your  horses  ? " 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Your  guns  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Your  saddles  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Going  to  kill  ye,  maybe  ? "  asked  the  old 
Indian. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  311 

"  That  man  ?  "  he  asked,  pointing  again  to 
Broken  Toe. 

"  Yes.  He  directed  the  preparations  to 
burn  us,"  I  responded. 

Wyandotte's  eyes  glistened,  and  after  a 
great  effort  he  rose  again  to  a  sitting  posture 
in  his  bed,  uttering  the  one  word,  "  Gun." 

Broken  Toe  handed  the  old  man  his  gun 
and  stepped  back  toward  the  door  of  the  tepee 
with  the  look  of  a  frightened  wolf  in  his  face. 
Wyandotte  examined  the  gun  for  a  moment, 
and  deliberately  lifted  it  to  his  shoulder.  A 
flash  and  a  report  startled  us,  and  Broken 
Toe  lay  dead  at  the  feet  of  his  chief. 

Wyandotte  put  the  gun  beside  him  on  the 
ground,  lay  down  on  his  blanket,  and  said, 
speaking  to  me :  — 

"  Go.     Wyandotte  see  you  to-morrow." 

We  stepped  over  the  still  quivering  body 
of  Broken  Toe,  and  walked  out  of  Wyandotte's 
tepee  with  a  new  lease  of  life. 

Just  outside  the  tepee  we  found  a  score  of 
Indian  men  standing  about  in  silence.  They 
had  discarded  their  war  feathers,  and  looked 
like  a  pack  of  crestfallen,  cowardly  wolves. 
The  fellow  that  had  us  in  charge  spoke  a  few 
words  to  the  others,  and  conducted  us  to  a 


3i2  UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL 

tepee  near  by.  The  inmates  of  the  wigwam 
were  turned  out,  and  we  were  put  in  posses- 
sion. Our  clothing,  blankets,  saddles,  saddle- 
bags, guns,  and  ammunition  were  all  brought 
into  the  tent,  and  within  half  an  hour  a 
young  squaw  brought  us  two  broiled  prairie 
hens,  a  pan  of  corn  pone,  and  a  bucket  of 
water.  These  she  placed  before  us  and  took 
her  leave. 

"The  following  morning  we  saw  Wyandotte, 
but  I'll  tell  you  about  that  to-morrow  even- 
ing," said  Tom  Andy  Bill. 

"  Please  tell  us  about  it  now,  Uncle  Tom," 
pleaded  Mab. 

"  Bless  your  life,  sweetheart,"  he  answered, 
"  you  can  hardly  keep  your  eyes  open  now." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can,"  answered  Mab.  "  I'll  not 
be  able  to  close  them  this  night  for  thinking 
of  those  awful  Indians  and  the  way  they 
treated  you."  She  nervously  grasped  the 
favorite  finger,  and  continued  :  "  Oh,  but  I  am 
glad  I  have  you !  You  shall  never,  never 
any  more  go  where  I  can't  see  you.  I'll  stay 
awake  all  night,  watching  you  through  the 
door  for  fear  something  will  get  you.  I  know 
I  can't  sleep  a  wink." 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  313 

"  Yes,  you  will,  honey,"  the  old  man  an- 
swered, rising  to  his  feet.  "  I'll  kiss  your 
eyelids  and  speak  a  charm  —  a  sure  charm  — 
that  I  know,  and  you  can't  help  going  to 
sleep."  Then  the  two  children,  —  one  a 
child  in  years,  the  other  a  child  in  heart,  — 
hand  in  hand,  went  off  to  bed. 

I  remained  before  the  fire  long  after  the 
rest  of  the  audience  had  departed,  and  pres- 
ently there  came  to  me  over  the  bedroom 
transom,  the  deep,  clear  voice  of  Tom  Andy 
Bill,  speaking  the  charm  as  softly  as  a  mother 
coos  to  her  babe :  — 

"  Sandman,  banish  tears  and  sighs, 
Sandman  —  Sandman,  close  Mab's  eyes." 

I  sat  musing  while  the  soft  tones  of  the 
deep  voice  and  the  music  of  the  couplet  hung 
in  my  ears,  and  presently  I  heard  a  baby 
voice  calling :  — 

"  The  charm  is  a  good  one — one  —  Uncle 
Tom  Andy  Bill.  I'm  —  almost  —  al-most 
—  a-a-a-"  But  only  the  sandman  heard  the 
sweet  word  "  sleep." 


CHAPTER  XII 

SEARCH    FOR   THE   TREASURE 

Our  hands  and  fingers  were  so  numb  and 
lifeless  that  we  could  hardly  put  on  our  cloth- 
ing ;  but  we  helped  each  other,  and  after  a 
great  deal  of  hard  work,  mingled  with  abuse 
of  the  Indians,  we  dressed  ourselves.  We 
tried  to  eat,  but  that,  too,  was  a  difficult  task, 
for  we  could  hardly  hold  the  wing  of  a  prairie 
hen  between  our  fingers.  But  we  managed 
to  satisfy  our  hunger,  and  then  we  lay  down 
and  tried  to  get  a  little  rest.  All  night  long 
we  suffered  greatly  from  our  hands,  but  to- 
ward morning  the  blood  began  to  circulate 
through  our  fingers,  and  life  returned,  little 
by  little. 

When  we  came  out  from  our  tepee,  we 
saw  our  horses  hitched  to  stakes  before  the 
door.  We  soon  met  several  Indian  men  and 
women,  but  they  were  as  meek  as  whipped 
curs  and  did  not  look  us  in  the  face.  Our 
breakfast  of  prairie  hen  was  brought  to  our 


\\l     |AW  (Hk    HORSES   HITCHKI)  TO  STAKES   BEFORE  THE  DOOR" 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  315 

tent,  and  we  were  treated  with  every  con- 
sideration. 

After  breakfast  our  great  task  was  to  be 
undertaken.  The  object  of  our  long,  hard 
journey  was  to  be  gained  or  lost.  Our  dreams 
were  to  be  realized  or  were  to  vanish,  as  a 
cloud  dissolves  upon  the  fathomless  blue.  So 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  either  result  would  be 
better  than  the  dreaming  uncertainty  we  had 
lived  in  for  so  long.  It  is  true  the  dreams 
were  sweet,  but  they  kept  us  in  a  state  of 
frothy  excitement,  and  we  had  been  unable 
to  think  seriously  of  anything  but  the  phan- 
tom gold  since  we  first  heard  of  it.  Now 
the  phantom  would  materialize  or  fade  away 
soon  after  we  entered  Wyandotte's  tepee,  and 
we  intended  to  enter  it  just  as  soon  as  we 
had  swallowed  breakfast.  Now  that  the  story 
of  the  treasure  was  coming  to  an  end,  we 
would  not  endure  the  suspense  longer  than 
was  actually  necessary. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  we  started  for 
Wyandotte's  tepee,  and  found  the  old  man 
lying  where  we  had  left  him  the  night  before. 

"  Good  morning,  Wyandotte,"  said  I. 

"  Ugh,"  he  answered  feebly. 

"  Are  you  feeling  badly  ?  "  I  asked. 


316  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  Ugh,"  he  responded,  and  I  knew  he 
meant  "yes." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  I  said.  "  Have 
you  pain  ?  " 

"  Heap  pain  here,"  he  replied,  placing  his 
hand  on  his  breast. 

"  If  you  will  send  an  Indian  with  us  to  the 
nearest  town,  we  will  send  you  medicine  to 
stop  the  pain,"  I  suggested,  feeling  very  sorry 
for  the  poor  old  fellow. 

"  No  medicine  will  stop  it,"  he  said  con- 
temptuously. 

"Yes,  Wyandotte,"  I  insisted.  "We  will 
send  you  a  medicine  that  will  ease  the  pain. 
It  will  not  cure  you,  but  it  will  give  you  rest. 
It  is  far  better  than  fire-water." 

"  Ugh ! "  he  answered,  which  in  this  in- 
stance signified  consent  and  doubt.  After  a 
long  pause,  he  said :  "  Tomandybilladdison 
wants  the  gold.     No  get  it." 

"  I  do  want  the  treasure,"  I  answered, 
very  earnestly  and  quietly,  "if  you  want  me 
to  have  it.  But  if  you  want  it  to  remain  hid- 
den forever  in  the  cave,  of  no  use  to  any  one, 
I  haven't  a  word  to  say.  We  helped  you  and 
you  helped  us,  so  the  debt  is  even.  The  treas- 
ure is  nothing  to  you.     It  is  a  great  deal  to 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  317 

us,  but  if  you  are  like  the  dog  in  the  manger, 
that  won't  eat  and  won't  let  any  one  else  eat, 
we  must  go  away  and  let  you  die  with  the 
secret  in  your  heart. 

"  You  will  be  sorry  when  it  is  too  late,"  I 
continued,  "  that  you  did  not  tell  us  where 
the  treasure  is.  When  you  are  about  to  die, 
you  will  wish  you  had  told  us,  and  '  too  late ' 
is  a  sad  death  song  for  a  man  to  sing.  It  is 
like  a  sun  that  never  shines,  like  the  rain 
that  never  falls,  like  the  flower  that  never 
blooms,  like  the  bird  that  never  flies,  like  the 
man  that  never  lives.  The  man  who  dies  with  it 
on  his  lips  turns  over  in  his  grave  and  moans 
out  the  sad,  sad  words,  '  Too  late,  too  late ! ' 
and  they  spoil  even  his  pleasure  in  the  happy 
hunting  ground." 

Wyandotte  turned  away  from  us,  and  we 
sat  upon  the  ground  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 
We  knew  we  could  neither  bribe  nor  coax 
the  secret  from  him.  After  a  long  silence,  I 
said :  — 

"  You  love  us  and  we  love  you.  I  know 
you  would  rather  we  should  have  the  treas- 
ure than  that  any  one  else  should  get  it." 
I  paused,  but  he  gave  no  sign  that  he  had 
heard  me,  and  I  continued :  "  Is  there  any 


3i8  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

one  else  you  wish  should  have  it  ?  If  there  is, 
we  will  be  glad  to  tell  them  anything  that 
you  say  to  us,  and  we  will,  if  you  wish,  take 
them  to  the  treasure  and  give  it  all  to  them. 
You  know  that  Tom  Andy  Bill  never  lies." 

There  was  no  response.  I  was  almost 
ready  to  abandon  the  effort,  but  I  tried 
again :  — 

"  Others  of  your  tribe  probably  know  where 
the  treasure  is,  and  when  you  are  dead,  they 
will  sell  the  secret  to  white  men  for  a  bottle 
of  fire-water.  You  will  never  get  the  treasure, 
and  unless  there  is  some  one  else  you  wish 
should  have  it,  you  might  as  well  tell  us  where 
and  how  to  find  it." 

My  object  in  putting  the  question  in  this 
way  was  to  learn  if  any  other  Indian  pos- 
sessed the  precious  secret.  If  so,  I  might  be 
able  to  buy  it.  Wyandotte  did  not  immedi- 
ately answer  my  question,  but  after  a  long, 
trying  pause,  he  said :  — 

11  No  one  knows  but  Monyomo." 

My  heart  sank,  for  I  felt  that  the  secret  of 
the  treasure  would  go  to  the  grave  with  the 
old  man  who  lay  dying  before  us. 

Balser  and  I  talked  to  Wyandotte  on  many 
subjects,  and  asked  a  great  number  of  ques- 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  319 

tions,  bearing  directly  or  indirectly  upon  the 
treasure,  but  we  received  no  response.  At 
times  we  thought  him  asleep  or  dead,  but 
now  and  then  he  coughed  or  moved.  Aside 
from  these  manifestations  of  life,  we  might 
as  well  have  been  talking  to  a  log.  When 
we  had  abandoned  all  hope  of  making  him 
talk,  we  sat  beside  his  bed  in  silence  for  at 
least  an  hour.  Suddenly  he  turned  toward 
us  and  said  angrily  :  — 

"  Tomandybilladdison,  better  go  'way  — 
better  go  'way  from  Indians.  If  Monyomo 
die,  Indians  kill  Tomandybilladdison  sure. 
Monyomo  die  soon." 

We  felt  that  both  statements  were  true.  It 
was  evident  that  Wyandotte  could  not  live 
long;  and  we  were  sure  beyond  a  possible 
doubt  that  two  white  boys  would  quickly 
follow  him  into  the  dark  if  they  remained 
until  after  he  was  dead. 

I  waited  for  a  minute  or  two  after  he  had 
spoken,  and  then  I  said,  speaking  gently  :  — 

"  You  are  right,  Wyandotte.  We  must  go 
before  you  die,  or  your  friends  will  certainly 
kill  us.  May  your  god  and  our  God  help 
you.  Good -by,  Wyandotte.  Shake  hands 
with  us.     We  want  you  to  die  knowing  that 


320  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

at  least  two  white  boys  love  you  and  are 
your  friends." 

He  reluctantly  gave  his  hand  to  us  in  fare- 
well, and  we  started  toward  the  door  of  the 
tepee,  saying :  — 

"  Send  an  Indian  with  us,  Wyandotte,  and 
we  will  give  him  medicine  to  ease  your  pain. 
Our  medicine  men  call  it  opium,  and  I  give 
you  my  word  that  you  will  have  no  pain  if 
you  take  it.  It  will  not  cure  you  of  your 
disease,  but  I  promise  you  it  will  give  you 
rest.     It  is  like  fire-water,  but  much  better." 

"  Wyandotte  will  not  tell  you  where  the 
gold  is,"  said  the  stubborn  old  Indian. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  I  don't  ask  you  to  tell 
us.  That's  all  over,  and  you've  had  your  way 
about  it." 

"  You  send  the  medicine  that  is  better  than 
fire-water  anyway  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  promise  to  send  it,  and  I  promise  you 
that  it  is  better  than  fire-water  and  will  ease 
your  pain,  and  you  know  that  the  voice  of 
Tom  Andy  Bill  Addison  is  always  the  voice 
of  truth.  He  speaks  no  empty  words.  Good- 
by,  Wyandotte." 

"  Good-by,  Wyandotte,"  said  Balser. 

We  were  passing  out  of  the  tepee  slowly, 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  321 

regretfully,  leaving  behind  us  our  sweet 
dream  of  gold,  when  the  old  man  cried  out 
hoarsely :  — 

"  Come  back,  Tomandybilladdison  !  " 

Balser  started  back  hurriedly,  but  I  checked 
him,  and  we  returned  slowly  to  the  Indian's 
bedside.  Wyandotte  was  struggling  to  rise 
in  his  bed,  and  we  helped  him.  He  sat  for  a 
moment,  coughing  violently,  but  when  the 
fit  had  passed,  he  pointed  to  a  box,  saying, 
"  Bring." 

Balser  placed  it  by  the  bedside,  and  the  old 
man,  taking  a  key  from  a  string  that  hung 
about  his  neck,  began  to  unlock  the  box.  I 
felt  that  our  dream  of  gold,  which  had  al- 
most vanished  in  thin  air,  was  about  to  be 
realized,  and  I  trembled  as  a  leaf  shakes 
when  the  east  wind  breathes  upon  it.  Balser, 
too,  was  pale  and  showed  his  agitation. 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  I  whispered  under  my 
breath. 

Wyandotte's  weak  hands  trembled  piteously 
and  I  thought  he  would  never  be  able  to 
open  the  box,  but  he  finally  turned  the  key 
and  lifted  the  lid.  From  the  box  he  took  a 
roll  of  buckskin,  and  from  the  buckskin  he 
took   a   smaller   roll  of   parchment.      With 


322  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

trembling  hands,  he  stretched  the  parchment 
on  the  blanket  before  him,  and  told  me  to 
hold  it  in  place.  I  at  once  knew  it  was  a 
rude  map  of  the  cave.  He  pointed  to  a  spot 
on  the  map  and  said :  — 

"  There ! " 

I  examined  it  very  carefully,  but  the  map 
was  so  poorly  drawn  that  I  could  make 
nothing  of  the  marks  and  lines,  and  told  him 
so. 

"  Tell  us  how  we  may  find  the  cave,  Wyan- 
dotte," said  I,  speaking  gently  and  almost 
tenderly  to  the  old  man,  for  I  did  feel  sorry 
for  him. 

"  Go  to  the  town  where  the  fathers  of  the 
white  people  live  —  where  they  have  a  big 
talking  house,"  he  answered,  speaking  slowly 
and  reluctantly.  To  give  up  the  secret  of  his 
life  was  almost  as  hard  to  the  Indian  as  to 
give  up  life  itself.  A  painful  silence  followed, 
and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  speak  no 
more,  but  presently  he  continued  :  "  Go  west 
from  that  town,  walking-  slowly  from  sun-up 
till  half-noon.  There  see  a  narrow  river  be- 
tween high  banks,  flowing  west.  Go  down 
the  river  till  river  turns  south  at  a  stony  hill 
like  the  half  of  an  egg.     Go  up  hill.     Go 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  323 

over  hill,  over  middle  of  top.  Go  down  hill 
in  middle  of  hill  halfway,  till  you  see  big 
rock,  with  arrow  cut  near  the  ground  on 
south  side  of  rock.  Arrow  points  to  cave. 
Two  toes,  two  hands  walk."  (Forty  steps 
away.) 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  town,  Wyan- 
dotte ?  "  I  asked. 

44  No  know  name  of  white  man's  town,"  he 
answered ;   44  half-sun  walk  from  river." 

44  From  the  Ohio  River  ? "  I  asked. 

44  Ugh,"  he  answered,  and  I  supposed  he 
meant  "yes,"  though  I  was  not  at  all  sure. 

We  questioned  him  about  the  cave,  but 
could  learn  nothing  more  definite  than  I  have 
told  you.  In  fact,  it  seemed  that  we  had 
learned  nothing  at  all. 

44  Are  there  many  caves  within  the  cave  ?  " 
I  asked. 

He  spread  his  hands  apart  as  far  as  his 
arms  could  reach,  meaning  to  say,  Indian 
fashion,  that  there  were  so  many  he  could 
not  tell  their  number. 

44  Your  map  is  not  clear  to  us,"  I  said. 
44  Won't  you  tell  me  how  we  may  know  the 
room  in  which  the  treasure  is  concealed  ?  " 

He  thought  for  a  moment,  and  answered : 


324  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  Ask  in  every  cave.  Ask  the  god  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo.  Say  to  him, '  Gold,  gold,  gold,'  and 
when  you  come  to  the  right  cave  he  will  an- 
swer. There  is  but  one  cave  in  which  he  lives. 
There  is  but  one  room  in  which  he  will  answer 
your  question.  The  gold  is  on  top  of  a 
devil's  head." 

He  fell  back  upon  the  bed,  handed  me  the 
map,  and  uttered  the  one  word,  "  Go." 

We  could  not  induce  Wyandotte  to  speak 
again,  so  after  a  half-hour  spent  in  fruitless 
endeavor  to  learn  more  accurately  the  situa- 
tion of  the  cave  and  the  exact  spot  in  which 
the  gold  was  buried,  we  again  said  good-by, 
and  left,  taking  the  map  with  us. 

We  told  an  Indian  that  Wyandotte  wanted 
some  one  to  go  with  us  to  the  nearest  town, 
and  the  fellow  went  in  to  see  the  chief. 
When  the  Indian  came  back,  he  directed  a 
young  man  to  go  with  us,  and  five  minutes 
later  we  were  riding  in  a  southeasterly  di- 
rection over  the  prairie,  both  glad  and  sorry 
to  leave. 

The  Indian  that  accompanied  us  rode  an 
active  pony  and  we  travelled  rapidly.  Neither 
Balser  nor  I  mentioned  the  treasure  in  the 
presence  of  our  companion. 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  325 

Before  sundown  that  night  we  reached  a 
small  town  and  stopped  at  the  tavern.  We 
immediately  sought  a  physician  and  told  him 
what  we  wanted  for  Wyandotte.  The  physi- 
cian prepared  a  large  number  of  doses  of 
opium  and  directed  the  Indian  concerning 
their  use.  After  supper  the  Indian  started 
on  his  return  trip,  and  never  from  that  day 
to  this  have  I  seen  a  Wyandotte,  and  never 
again  do  I  want  to  see  one. 

Balser  and  I  agreed  not  to  mention  the 
treasure  in  any  house,  nor  near  any  man, 
woman,  or  child.  After  supper  we  walked 
out  in  the  prairie  to  discuss  our  marvellous 
adventure,  and  to  talk  over  the  meagre  in- 
formation we  had  obtained  concerning  the 
treasure. 

"  We're  not  much  better  off  than  when  we 
started  from  Blue  River,"  said  I.  "  Wyan- 
dotte's town,  where  the  fathers  of  the  white 
people  live,  is  rather  a  vague  metropolis,  and 
his  directions  to  ask  the  god,  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo,  about  the  gold  is  nothing  but  idiotic 
nonsense.  He  might  as  well  have  told  us  to 
ask  the  wind.  He  said  the  gold  was  on  a 
devil's  head.  It's  all  in  his  own  head;  I  be- 
lieve he's  crazy.     I'm  beginning  to  think  that 


326  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

we,  too,  are  growing  'lurry,'  and  that  there 
is  no  treasure  at  all." 

"  Well,  you  had  better  begin  to  think 
again,"  answered  Balser,  in  an  injured  tone, 
"  for  there  is  a  treasure  and  we  will  find  it. 
Wyandotte  told  us  where  it  is  just  as  accu- 
rately as  the  poor,  ignorant  old  savage  could 
describe  the  place.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to 
understand  what  he  said.  If  we  can't  find 
his  meaning,  we  don't  deserve  to  find  the 
gold." 

"  But  you  don't  suppose  his  god  will  an- 
swer us  ? "  I  asked  indignantly ;  "  or  that  a 
devil  is  going  to  bend  his  head  for  our  in- 
spection ? " 

"Of  course  I  don't,"  he  replied.  "That's 
not  what  Wyandotte  meant.  He  meant  some- 
thing else,  and  that  something  else  is  what  we 
must  discover." 

"  Well,  you  discover  it,"  I  retorted,  growing 
angry  at  Balser's  stubbornness.  "  I'm  ready 
to  admit  that  it  is  beyond  the  scope  of  my 
feeble  intellect.  While  you're  on  your  voyage 
of  discovery  into  this  realm  of  dreams,  you 
might  try  your  hand,  or  your  brain,  on  the 
question,  '  Where  is  the  town  where  the 
fathers  of  the  white  people  live  ? '     It's  in  the 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  327 

clouds,  I  tell  you,  and  I'm  disgusted  with  it 
all.  I'm  going  to  quit  dreaming  about 
the  gold,  and  I'm  going  to  work  to  clear  the 
ground  and  make  a  farm  for  myself.  The 
gold  has  brought  us  to  death's  door  twice. 
The  third  time  will  be  the  charm,  and  we'll 
die  some  miserable  death  because  we  have 
been  fools  enough  to  listen  to  the  tale  of  a 
crazy  old  Indian." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you,  Tom  Andy  Bill," 
said  Balser,  indignantly,  walking  away  toward 
the  town. 

We  went  to  bed  early,  and  you  may  be  sure 
we  were  asleep  soon  after  our  tired  bodies 
struck  the  bed.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
I  was  awakened  by  some  one  shaking  me. 
It  was  Balser. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  I  asked. 

He  put  his  mouth  to  my  ear  and  whis- 
pered, "  I  know  the  town." 

"  Of  course  you  do,"  I  answered,  with  fine 
irony,  "and  you'll  recognize  the  voice  of 
Wyandotte  Wyolyo  when  he  answers  your 
question,  and  of  course  you  will  know  the 
devil  with  the  gold  on  top  of  his  head  as  soon 
as  you  see  him." 

"  But  I  do  know  it,"  insisted  Balser.  "  ■  The 


328  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

town  where  the  fathers  of  the  white  people 
live,  and  where  they  have  a  big  talking  house,' 
is  Corydon,  the  old  capital  of  Indiana. 
Wyandotte  referred  to  the  Governor  and  to 
the  legislature  when  he  spoke  of  '  the  fathers 
of  the  white  people,'  and  the  capitol  building 
is  '  the  big  talking  house.'  " 

"  By  George,  you're  right,  Balser,"  I  ex- 
claimed aloud.  "  Just  as  sure  as  you're  alive, 
you're  right !  You're  no  fool,  Balser  !  I  wish- 
I  had  one-tenth  your  brains." 

He  put  his  hand  over  my  mouth,  and 
again  whispered,  "  Let's  get  up  and  go  out 
on  the  prairie." 

We  arose,  dressed  hurriedly,  and  walked 
some  distance  out  of  town  into  the  open 
prairie,  where  we  could  speak  of  our  precious 
secret  with  no  fear  that  it  would  be  discovered. 
There  we  discussed  the  question,  and  Balser 
had  little  difficulty  in  convincing  me  that  his 
interpretation  of  Wyandotte's  words  was 
correct.  But  the  old  man's  instructions  direct- 
ing us  to  ask  his  god  about  the  gold  seemed 
to  me  to  cast  doubt  on  all  he  had  told  us. 

Balser,  with  his  usual  persistency,  said : 
"  Never  you  mind,  Tom  Andy  Bill.  We'll 
learn  the  meaning  of  that,  too.     Just  let  us 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL  329 

find  the  cave,  and  I'd  almost  stake  my  life 
we'll  find  the  gold." 

Next  morning  we  started  out  early  across 
the  trackless  prairie,  headed  for  another  town 
that  lay  in  the  general  direction  of  home. 
Before  we  had  been  riding  an  hour,  we  deter- 
mined not  to  go  directly  home,  but  to  make 
our  way  straight  to  Corydon.  If  we  went 
home,  we  should  have  to  give  some  explana- 
tion for  continuing  our  trip  to  Corydon;  and 
if  our  search  for  the  treasure  were  to  fail 
after  we  had  told  the  object  of  our  mission, 
we  should  return  to  Blue  River  a  pair  of  crest- 
fallen boys,  to  be  laughed  at  by  our  friends. 

"  I'll  go  with  you  this  time,  Balser,"  said  I, 
"  but  it  is  the  last  fool's  errand  I'll  undertake 
in  search  of  this  phantom  gold." 

"This  trip  is  all  I'll  ever  ask  you  to  make," 
he  answered.  "This  time  we'll  get  the  gold, 
gold,  gold  !  "  He  was  already  beginning  to 
speak  to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo,  the  god. 

Balser's  enthusiasm  was  infectious,  and  I 
had  caught  it  long  before  we  reached  Corydon. 

Three  weeks  after  leaving  the  Wyandotte 
village  we  reached  Corydon,  the  old  capital 
of  Indiana.  After  arriving  at  the  quaint  old 
town,  we  began  preparations  for  visiting  the 


33©  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

cave,  and  for  exploring  it  in  case  we  found  it. 
We  laid  in  a  supply  of  provisions,  bought  one 
skillet  (our  only  cooking  utensil),  two  tin  cups, 
two  tin  plates,  knives,  and  forks.  We  also 
bought  five  dozen  candles,  two  large  oil  lan- 
terns, wicks,  and  oil.  We  determined  not  to 
depend  upon  our  tinder  box  for  light,  but 
laid  in  a  supply  of  sulphur  matches  and  bought 
two  small,  water-tight  metal  match  cases  that 
we  intended  to  carry  with  us  on  our  journey 
through  the  cave. 

We  had  been  lost  once  in  a  dark  cave,  and 
we  had  no  notion  of  being  caught  in  the  same 
predicament  again.  To  further  guard  against 
being  lost,  we  bought  a  thousand  feet  of  twine 
in  balls.  We  meant  to  fasten  one  end  of  the 
string  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  then  ex- 
pected to  carry  the  balls  of  twine  with  us, 
unwinding  them  as  we  went  in.  All  these 
articles  we  stored  in  our  saddle-bags. 

Our  outfit  was  so  complete  that  I  told 
Balser  we  probably  should  have  the  luck  of 
the  man  who  went  fishing  with  too  much 
bait.  He  caught  no  fish.  But  Balser's  faith 
never  flagged,  and  I  had  more  confidence 
than  I  was  willing  to  express. 

We  started  west  one  morning  at  sun-up 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  331 

and  within  two  or  three  hours  came  to  the 
deep,  narrow  river  flowing  between  high 
banks,  described  by  Wyandotte.  The  dis- 
covery that  the  old  Indian  had  told  the  truth 
about  the  river  seemed  to  give  a  flavor  of 
verity  to  his  entire  story.  When  we  first  saw 
the  river,  Balser  cried  out  delightedly :  — 

"  Here's  the  river,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  and  I 
believe  every  word  the  poor  old  savage 
said  was  true  !  " 

"  Do  you  believe  his  god  will  tell  us  where 
the  gold  is  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  answered.  "  I  don't  know 
what  he  meant,  but  I'm  going  to  follow  his 
instructions." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  commence  pray- 
ing to  his  god  at  once,"  I  suggested.  "  It 
would  be  a  fine  start  for  us  to  begin  our 
treasure  hunt  by  breaking  the  first  command- 
ment." 

"  If  I  felt  as  you  do  about  this  matter,  I'd 
go  home,"  answered  Balser. 

I  laughed  and  said,  "  Don't  say  a  word." 

We  followed  the  river  bank  as  closely  as 
possible,  and  when  the  stream  turned  south, 
sure  enough,  there  to  the  right,  that  is,  on 
the  north  side  of  the  river,  was  a  high,  stony 


332  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

hill  shaped  like  the  half  of  an  egg.  When 
Balser  saw  the  hill,  he  could  hardly  breathe 
for  excitement,  and  I  must  confess  that  my 
heart,  too,  was  working  pretty  hard. 

The  side  of  the  hill  was  steep  and  rocky, 
but  at  the  top  there  was  a  small  grove  of 
trees.  When  we  reached  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  we  dismounted ;  and  after  a  hard  climb, 
arrived  at  the  top,  where  we  halted  in  the 
grove,  unloaded,  and  hitched  the  horses  to 
trees.  It  was  nearly  supper  time,  but  we 
could  not  wait  to  eat.  We  were  so  excited 
that  for  once  in  our  lives  our  appetites  de- 
serted us.  We  gave  the  horses  a  few  ears  of 
corn,  and  started  down  the  "  middle  of  the 
north  side  of  the  hill." 

We  had  climbed  it  from  the  south,  we  had 
passed  over  the  "middle  of  the  top,"  and  then 
we  started  down  the  "middle  of  the  north 
side." 

We  had  hardly  gone  halfway  down  the 
hill  when  Balser  cried  out:  — 

"  There's  the  arrow,  Tom  Andy  Bill ! 
There's  the  arrow !  " 

Sure  enough,  right  before  us  was  the  arrow, 
pointing  east.  We  instantly  started  in  the 
direction  indicated  by  the  arrow ;  and  when 


UNCLE  TOM   ANDY   BILL  333 

we  had  taken  a  few  steps,  we  turned  and  faced 
each  other,  dumb  with  amazement,  for  right 
before  us  was  the  overhanging  rock  that  cov- 
ered the  opening  to  the  cave  we  had  already 
explored.  On  our  former  visit  we  had  ap- 
proached the  hill  from  the  north  side,  and  on 
this  occasion  we  had  failed  to  recognize  it 
because  we  had  come  upon  it  from  the  south. 

To  say  that  we  were  disappointed  doesn't 
half  tell  the  story.  We  had  searched  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  cave,  and  we  felt  sure 
there  was  no  treasure  to  be  found  in  it.  Even 
Balser's  enthusiasm  was  dampened,  and  with- 
out a  word  we  started  up  the  hill  to  our  horses, 
ate  our  supper,  lay  down  in  our  blankets,  and 
went  to  sleep,  —  a  pair  of  sadly  disappointed 
boys.  When  we  awakened  next  morning  we 
were  very  downhearted,  but  after  breakfast 
Balser  said  :  — 

"  We're  here,  and  we  might  as  well  explore 
the  cave  again.  We  may  have  missed  some 
part  of  it  when  we  were  here  before.  We  are 
so  well  prepared  that  we  can  explore  it  now 
without  risk  of  being  lost.  I  want  to  see  The 
Marble  Room  by  a  good  light,  anyway." 

I,  too,  wanted  to  see  the  cave  again ;  so  we 
prepared  the  lamps,  took  a  dozen  candles, 


334  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

fastened  one  end  of  the  twine  at  the  opening 
of  the  cave,  and  entered  upon  our  second  ex- 
ploration of  this  wonderful  cavern.  We  en- 
tered, lighted  our  torches,  and  unwound  the 
twine  as  we  proceeded.  A  few  minutes'  walk 
brought  us  to  the  wonderful  marble  chamber, 
and  we  again  examined  every  square  foot  of 
the  room.  As  on  our  former  visit,  we  were 
soon  convinced  that  no  treasure  was  con- 
cealed in  that  chamber. 

While  we  were  pondering  gloomily  over 
our  second  failure,  Wyandotte's  instructions 
to  call  to  the  god  occurred  to  Balser,  and 
lifting  his  face  as  if  in  prayer,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Gold,  gold,  gold !  " 

No  answer  came,  and  I  laughed.  His  call 
to  Wyandotte  Wyolyo  reminded  us  of  Mon- 
yomo's  map.  I  took  it  from  my  pocket  and, 
by  the  light  of  the  lanterns,  examined  the 
rude  tracings.  We  easily  recognized  the  route 
through  the  cave  up  to  the  marble  chamber 
in  which  we  were  sitting,  but  if  Wyandotte's 
map  was  correct,  there  were  still  many  rooms 
beyond. 

We  had  not  been  able  to  find  an  opening 
leading  from  the  marble  chamber,  save  the 
one  by  which  we  had  entered,  but  after  ex- 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  335 

amining  the  map,  Balser  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  began  trying  to  move  the  rocks  that 
rested  near  the  wall  of  the  cavern.  I  joined 
in  the  labor,  and  soon  I  heard  a  cry  of  delight 
from  my  friend.  I  looked  and  saw  that  he 
had  moved  a  large  rock,  and  that  in  front 
of  him  was  a  low  opening  penetrating  the 
stone  wall  of  the  chamber. 

"  Here  is  the  opening  represented  by  the 
dim  line  on  Wyandotte's  map,"  cried  Balser, 
"  and  I'm  sure  it  leads  to  the  chamber  in- 
dicated by  the  circular  line  on  the  parch- 
ment." 

We  examined  the  opening  and  found  it  so 
small  that  to  pass  through  it  we  must  lie 
upon  our  breasts.  For  a  moment  we  hesitated 
to  enter,  but  no  danger  would  have  balked 
Balser  in  his  determination  to  find  the  treas- 
ure. He  lay  down  upon  his  breast,  and,  push- 
ing the  lamp  before  him,  crawled  into  the 
low,  narrow  tunnel,  and  I  crawled  after  him, 
pushing  my  lantern  ahead  of  me. 

After  covering  a  distance  of  ten  or  fifteen 
yards  in  the  tunnel,  we  came  to  a  point  where 
it  made  a  sharp  turn  at  right  angles.  Here 
the  tunnel  was  so  narrow  that  we  were  com- 
pelled to  turn  upon  our  sides  to  enable  us  to 


336  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

pass  the  angle.  It  was  "  scary  "  work,  I  tell 
you ;  but  after  a  long,  hard  spell  of  playing 
snake,  we  emerged  into  another  beautiful 
marble  chamber,  more  marvellous  even  than 
the  first. 

We  easily  searched  the  new  room,  but  found 
no  possible  hiding  place  for  the  treasure. 
Here,  too,  Balser  lifted  his  face  to  the  ceiling 
and  called  out,  ■  Gold,  gold,  gold  ! "  but  no 
answering  voice  of  the  god  greeted  us. 
Again  I  laughed,  and  Balser  thought  my 
levity  was  far  amiss.  The  passageways  to 
other  chambers  were  all  large,  and  in  a  short 
time  we  had  examined  eight  or  ten  beautiful 
rooms. 

In  each  chamber  Balser  called,  "  Gold,  gold, 
gold!"  and  I  always  found  it  very  funny, 
much  to  his  disgust.  We  had  been  in  the 
cave  perhaps  four  or  five  hours  when  we 
entered  a  chamber  that  was  more  lofty  and 
more  beautiful  than  any  we  had  yet  seen. 
Balser  at  once  turned  his  face  to  the  ceil- 
ing and  made  his  adjuration  to  Wyandotte 
Wyolyo,  "  Gold,  gold,  gold !  " 

I  again  felt  like  laughing,  but  I  didn't  laugh, 
for  to  my  surprise  there  came  a  reverberating 
answer,  loud  at   first,  but  diminishing   to  a 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  337 

ghostly  whisper:  "GOLD,  gold,  gold,  gold, 
g-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-old ! " 

"An  echo,"  said  I,  awed  by  the  wonderful 
response. 

"  Yes,  that's  what  Wyandotte  meant,"  an- 
swered Balser.  "  Now,  if  we  don't  fall  dead 
from  excitement,  we'll  have  that  treasure 
pretty  soon." 

We  lighted  our  candles,  placing  them 
about  at  points  best  suited  to  illuminate 
the  chamber,  and,  with  lanterns  in  hand,  pro- 
ceeded to  search  the  wonderful  place.  I  had 
taken  a  shovel  in  with  me,  and  Balser  had 
carried  a  pick,  so  we  were  prepared  to  com- 
mence digging  as  soon  as  we  found  a  soft 
spot  in  the  rock.  But  the  floor  was  of  solid 
stone,  and  in  ten  minutes  we  were  convinced 
that  the  treasure  could  not  be  buried  in  the 
cave  of  the  echo. 

Our  excitement,  of  course,  was  great.  Our 
nerves  were  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch. 
The  cave  was  cool,  but  we  had  discarded  our 
coats  and  were  perspiring  like  wheat-binders 
in  July.  We  went  over  and  over  every  square 
foot  of  the  place,  and  were  almost  wild  with 
despair.  When  we  heard  the  echo,  we  felt 
that  the  treasure  was  surely  ours,  and  to  come 


338  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

down  from  the  glittering  heights  of  expec- 
tancy to  the  black  depths  of  disappointment 
was  like  falling  from  heaven  to  the  other 
place. 

I  thought  Balser  was  going  to  cry,  so  I 
took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  the  foot 
of  a  great  white  column  that  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  chamber.  Being  very  tired,  we 
sat  down  upon  a  rock  that  jutted  out  from 
the  base  of  the  column.  After  we  had  been 
sitting  there  a  few  minutes,  I  happened  to 
glance  up,  and  noticed  that  pieces  of  the 
crystal  rock,  similar  to  the  one  on  which  we 
were  sitting,  projected  from  the  main  stem 
at  intervals  of  two  or  three  feet,  almost  to 
the  top.     I  remarked  carelessly  to  Balser :  — 

"  One  might  climb  to  the  top  of  this 
column." 

I  had  hardly  uttered  the  words  when 
Balser  exclaimed :  "  On  top  of  a  devil's 
head  ! " 

He  at  once  began  to  climb,  and  I,  grasping 
his  thought,  instantly  followed  him  with  the 
nimbleness  of  a  mountain  goat.  We  each 
reached  the  top  of  the  column  at  almost  the 
same  instant,  and  I  nearly  fell  to  the  rock 
floor,  twenty  feet  beneath  us,  for  there  on  the 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  339 

top  of  the  beautiful  white  "  devil,"  were  five 
iron-bound  chests. 

•  Gold,  gold,  gold,  at  last ! "  cried  Balser. 

"  LAST,  last,  last,  —  la-a-a-a-a-ast  — " 
answered  the  god,  Wyandotte  Wyolyo. 

The  refrain  was  uncanny  and  almost  froze 
my  blood.  The  awful  word  "  last  "  seemed 
to  tell  me  that  it  was  the  last  of  Balser  and 
me,  and  my  heart  almost  grew  cold  with  fear 
at  the  thought  that  we  might  never  get  out 
of  the  cave  alive,  and  that  this  marvellous 
chamber  would  be  our  "  last,  last,  last  "  rest- 
ing place. 

I  was  nearly  ready  to  faint,  but  Balser's 
excitement  gave  him  strength,  and  I  borrowed 
a  little  from  him  for  the  time  being.  We 
feasted  our  eyes  on  the  five  chests  until  we 
were  full  of  them,  and  then  we  took  them 
down  the  column,  one  by  one. 

We  were  greatly  disappointed  in  the  size 
of  the  chests,  for  they  were  not  more  than 
seven  or  eight  inches  square,  by  three  or 
four  inches  deep,  and  we  could  see  that  the 
boards  composing  them  were  quite  thick. 
I  don't  know  how  large  we  expected  the 
chests  to  be.  To  tell  the  truth,  we  had  no 
idea  how  much  space  a  thousand  dollars  in 


340  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

gold  would  occupy,  but  these  chests  were 
so  small  that  we  feared  they  could  not,  all 
together,  contain  the  half  of  a  thousand 
dollars. 

Though  we  were  sadly  disappointed  in  the 
size  of  the  chests,  we  lost  no  time  in  opening 
them  with  our  pick,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
the  sight  that  greeted  our  eyes.  Never  be- 
fore nor  since  has  gold  looked  so  beautiful. 
There  it  lay  in  a  great  pile  of  beautiful  double 
eagles.  We  opened  all  the  chests  and  poured 
the  gold  out  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  cavern, 
where  we  counted  six  hundred  pieces  of 
twenty  dollars  each. 

Balser  left  me  with  the  gold  and  went  to 
fetch  sacks  in  which  to  carry  it.  He  took  up 
the  twine  string,  allowing  it  to  slip  through 
his  fingers  in  guiding  him  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave.  He  was  gone  a  long  time ;  at  least 
it  seemed  long  to  me,  for  I  was  very  lonesome 
waiting  in  the  cave,  and  dreaded  crawling 
back  through  "  worm  alley,"  as  we  called  the 
narrow  tunnel. 

When  Balser  returned  we  divided  the  gold 
into  equal  parts,  put  it  in  the  sacks,  and,  leav- 
ing the  empty  chests  behind  us,  started  for 
the  mouth  of  the  cave. 


WB  <    •'  Mil'   MX   HUNDRED   PIECES   Of    TWENTY    DOLLARS    BACH' 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  341 

We  met  with  no  adventure  worth  mention- 
ing on  our  return  trip  to  Blue  River. 

I  reached  home  just  after  supper  time  one 
evening,  hurriedly  put  up  my  horse,  slipped 
into  the  house  without  giving  warning  of 
my  approach,  and  entered  the  sitting  room 
carrying  my  precious  sack  —  which  weighed 
about  thirty  pounds  —  over  my  shoulder. 

My  mother  and  my  sisters  ran  to  greet  me, 
and  after  kissing  them,  I  walked  over  to  father, 
who  was  sitting  by  the  fire.  I  shook  hands 
with  him  and  put  the  sack  down  on  the  floor 
beside  him,  saying  kind  o'  careless  like  :  — 

"  There's  a  present  for  you,  father ;"  and  he 
said  kind  o'  careless  like :  — 

"  What  is  it,  son  ?  " 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  I;  "just  gold." 

Well,  you  should  have  seen  father  and 
mother  and  my  sisters  pounce  on  that  sack 
and  pour  the  yellow  fellows  out  on  the  table. 

The  girls  asked  twenty  questions  at  once, 
but  I  said:  "  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story 
after  I  have  had  some  supper.  I'm  hungry 
as  a  bear." 

I  looked  about  the  room.  There  were  my 
three  sisters,  Nan,  Betty,  and  Sue,  my  father 
and  my  mother  — 


342  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL 

"  Where  —  where  is  —  is  Mab  ?  "  I  asked. 
Then  mother  and  the  girls  covered  their  faces 
with  their  aprons  and  began  to  cry.  Pres- 
ently father  rose  from  his  chair,  came  to  me, 
placed  his  hand  lovingly  on  my  shoulder,  and 
said,  in  a  low,  trembling  voice  :  — 

"  They   have   taken  her  from  us,  son.     I 
fought  them  in  the  courts  until  I  could  fight 
no  more ;  but  the  law  had  its  way,  and  they 
took  her  from  us." 
###### 

Well,  the  gold  turned  to  ashes  for  me  then 
and  there,  and  gold  has  been  ashes  for  me 
ever  since. 

Five  years  afterward  we  got  a  letter  from 
Mab  telling  us  that  she  had  been  forced  to 
marry  a  man  chosen  by  her  people  to  be  her 
husband,  and  that  she  was  very  unhappy. 
Soon  after  receiving  the  letter,  mother  died, 
and  father  did  not  long  survive  her.  Sue 
and  Betty  got  married,  and  Nan  and  I  lived 
together  in  the  old  house. 

Seven  or  eight  years  after  receiving  Mab's 
letter,  a  carriage  from  the  town  of  Blue  River 
stopped  in  front  of  our  door,  and  out  stepped 
Mab  with  a  baby  girl.  Maybe  she  wasn't 
welcome  !     Ah,  what  a  glad  day  that   was ! 


UNCLE  TOM  ANDY  BILL  343 

"  I  have  run  away  from  them  all,"  said  Mab. 
"  They  are  hard,  cruel  people,  and  my  hus- 
band was  the  worst  of  all.  I  could  not  endure 
life  with  him  one  day  longer,  so  I  took  little 
Mab  and  ran  away  from  him,  and  have  come 
back  to  you,  Tom  Andy  Bill,  for  protection." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you've  come  to  the  right 
place,"  said  I. 

They  tried  to  make  her  leave  us  again,  but 
I  kept  a  dozen  rifles  loaded,  and  notified 
her  people  that  there  would  be  a  series  of 
funerals  if  any  of  them  placed  foot  on  my 
farm. 

Mab  lived  with  Nan  and  me  three  years, 
and  died,  leaving  us  little  four-year-old  Mab. 
Her  father  tried  to  take  her  from  us,  but  I 
lawed  him  till  she  was  eighteen  years  old. 
Then  she  got  married  and  lived  in  the  old 
house  for  many  years  after  we  moved  into  the 
new  one.  But  she  and  her  husband  died,  as 
you  all  know,  not  long  since,  and  they  left  to 
me  —  to  me  — 

At  that  point  the  old  man  stopped  speak- 
ing, placed  his  hand  on  Mab's  curls,  and  after 
a  long  pause,  continued :  — 

"  I  reckon  my  title  to  her  is  good.     I'll  kill 


344  UNCLE  TOM  ANDY   BILL 

any  man  that  says  it  isn't."  So  he  took 
Baby  Mab  in  his  arms  and  pressed  her 
to  his  breast. 

Then  we  rose  and  left  Uncle  Tom  Andy 
Bill  alone  with  his  great  sorrow,  and  his 
greater  joy,  for  we  knew  that  the  story  was 
told. 


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Hillis  —  The    Quest  of  Happiness.     By   Rev.   Newell   Dwight 

HlLLIS. 

"  Its  whole  tone  and  spirit  is  of  a  sane,  healthy  optimism." —  Phila- 
delphia Telegraph. 

Hillquit —  Socialism  in  Theory  and  Practice.    By  Morris  Hillquit. 
"  An  interesting  historical  sketch  of  the  movement."  —  Newark 
Evening  News. 

Hodges  —  Everyman's  Religion.     By  George  Hodges. 

"  Religion  to-day  is  preeminently  ethical  and  social,  and  such  is 
the  religion  so  ably  and  attractively  set  forth  in  these  pages."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

Home  —  David  Livingstone.     By  Silvester  C.  Horne. 

The  centenary  edition  of  this  popular  work.  A  clear,  simple, 
narrative  biography  of  the  great  missionary,  explorer,  and  scientist. 

Hunter  —  Poverty.     By  Robert  Hunter. 

"  Mr.  Hunter's  book  is  at  once  sympathetic  and  scientific.  He 
brings  to  the  task  a  store  of  practical  experience  in  settlement  work 
gathered  in  many  parts  of  the  country." —  Boston  Transcript. 

Hunter —  Socialists  at  Work.     By  Robert  Hunter. 

"  A  vivid,  running  characterization  of  the  foremost  personalities 
in  the  Socialist  movement  throughout  the  world." — Review  of 
Reviews. 

Jefferson — The  Building  of  the  Church.    By  Charles  E.  Jefferson. 
"  A  book  that  should  be  read  by  every  minister." 

King  —  The  Ethics  of  Jesus.     By  Henry  Churchill  King. 

"  I  know  no  other  study  of  the  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus  so  scholarly? 
so  careful,  clear,  and  compact  as  this."  —  G.  H.  Palmer,  Harvard 
University. 

King  —  The    Laws    of    Friendship  —  Human    and    Divine.     By 

Henry  Churchill  King. 
"  This  book  is  full  of  sermon  themes  and  thought-inspiring  sen- 
tences   worthy   of   being    made    mottoes   for   conduct."  —  Chicagt 
Tribune. 

S 


King  —  Rational  Living.     By  Henry  Churchill  King. 

"  An  able  conspectus  of  modern  psychological  investigation, 
viewed  from  the  Christian  standpoint."  —  Philadelphia  Public 
Ledger. 

London  —  The  War  of  the  Classes.     By  Jack  London. 

"  Mr.  London's  book  is  thoroughly  interesting,  and  his  point  of 
view  is  very  different  from  that  of  the  closest  theorist."  —  Springfield 
Republican. 

London  —  Revolution  and  Other  Essays.     By  Jack  London. 
"  Vigorous,  socialistic  essays,  animating  and  insistent." 

Lyon  —  How  to  Keep  Bees  for  Profit.     By  Everett  D.  Lyon. 

"  A  book  which  gives  an  insight  into  the  life  history  of  the  bee 
family,  as  well  as  telling  the  novice  how  to  start  an  apiary  and  care 
for  it."  —  Country  Life  hi  America. 

McLennan — A  Manual  of  Practical  Farming.    By  John  McLennan. 
"  The  author  has  placed  before  the  reader  in  the  simplest  terms  a 
means   of   assistance   in   the   ordinary   problems   of   farming."  — 
National  Nurseryman. 

Mabie  —  William  Shakespeare:  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man.     By 
Hamilton  W.  Mabie. 
"  It  is  rather  an  interpretation  than  a  record." —  Chicago  Standard. 

Mahaffy  —  Rambles  and  Studies  in  Greece.     By  J.  P.  Mahaffy. 

"  To  the  intelligent  traveler  and  lover  of  Greece  this  volume  will 
prove  a  most  sympathetic  guide  and  companion." 

Mathews  —  The  Church  and  the  Changing  Order.     By  Shailer 
Mathews. 
"  The  book  throughout  is  characterized  by  good  sense  and  restraint 
...     A  notable  book  and  one  that  every  Christian  may  read  with 
profit."  —  The  Living  Church. 

Mathews  —  The    Gospel    and    the    Modern    Man.     By    Shailer 
Mathews. 
"  A  succinct  statement  of  the  essentials  of  the  New  Testament." 
—  Service. 

Nearing  —  Wages  in  the  United  States.     By  Scott  Nearing. 

"  The  book  is  valuable  for  anybody  interested  in  the  main  question 
of  the  day  —  the  labor  question." 

Patten  —  The  Social  Basis  of  Religion.     By  Simon  N.  Patton. 
"  A  work  of  substantial  value."  —  Continent. 

6 


Peabody  —  The  Approach  to  the  Social   Question.    By  Francis 
Greenwood  Peabody. 
"  This  book  is  at  once  the  most  delightful,  persuasive,  and  saga- 
cious contribution  to  the  subject."  —  Louisville  Courier- Journal. 

Pierce  —  The  Tariff  and  the  Trusts.     By  Franklin  Pierce. 

"  An  excellent  campaign  document  for  a  non-protectionist."  — 
Independent. 

Rauschenbusch  —  Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis.     By  Walter 
Rauschenbusch. 
"  It  is  a  book  to  like,  to  learn  from,  and  to  be  charmed  with."  — 
New   York  Times. 

Riis  —  The  Making  of  an  American.     By  Jacob  Riis. 

"  Its  romance  and  vivid  incident  make  it  as  varied  and  delightful 
as  any  romance." —  Publisher's  Weekly. 

Riis —  Theodore  Roosevelt,  the  Citizen.     By  Jacob  Riis. 

"  A  refreshing  and  stimulating  picture."  —  New   York  Tribune. 

Ryan  —  A  Living  Wage;  Its  Ethical  and  Economic  Aspects.     By 
Rev.  J.  A.  Ryan. 
"  The  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of  the 
general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 

Scott  —  Increasing  Human  Efficiency  in  Business.     By  Walter 
Dill  Scott. 
"  An  important  contribution  to  the  literature  of  business  psy- 
chology."—  The  American  Banker. 

St.  Maur  —  The  Earth's  Bounty.     By  Kate  V.  St.  Maur. 
"  Practical  ideas  about  the  farm  and  garden." 

St.  Maur  —  A  Self-supporting  Home.     By  Kate  V.  St.  Maur. 

"  Each  chapter  is  the  detailed  account  of  all  the  work  necessary 
for  one  month  —  in  the  vegetable  garden,  among  the  small  fruits, 
with  the  fowls,  guineas,  rabbits,  and  in  every  branch  of  husbandry 
to  be  met  with  on  the  small  farm."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

Sherman  —  What  is  Shakespeare?     By  L.  A.  Sherman. 

"  Emphatically  a  work  without  which  the  library  of  the  Shake- 
speare student  will  be  incomplete."  —  Daily  Telegram. 

Sidgwick  —  Home  Life  in  Germany.     By  A.  Sidgwick. 

"  A  vivid  picture  of  social  life  and  customs  in  Germany  to-day." 

Simons  —  Social  Forces  in  American  History.     By  A.  W.  SIimons. 
"  A  forceful  interpretation  of  events  in  the  light  of  economics."    j 

7 


Smith  —  The  Spirit  of  American  Government.     By  J.  Allen  Smith. 
"  Not  since  Bryce's  '  American  Commonwealth  '  has  a  book  been 
produced  which  deals  so  searchingly  with  American  political  in- 
stitutions and  their  history."  —  New   York  Evening  Telegram. 

Spargo —  Socialism.     By  John  Spargo. 

"  One  of  the  ablest  expositions  of  Socialism  that  has  ever  been 
written." —  New  York  Evening  Call. 

Tarbell  —  History  of  Greek  Art.     By  T.  B.  Tarbell. 

"  A  sympathetic  and  understanding  conception  of  the  golden  age 
of  art." 

Trask  —  In  the  Vanguard.     By  Katrina  Trask. 

"  Katrina  Trask  has  written  a  book  —  in  many  respects  a  won- 
derful book  —  a  story  that  should  take  its  place  among  the  classics." 
—  Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

Valentine  -  How  to  Keep  Hens  for  Profit.     By  C.  S.  Valentine. 

"  Beginners  and  seasoned  poultrymen  will  find  in  it  much  of 
value."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

Van  Dyke  —  The  Gospel  for  a  World  of  Sin.     By   Henry  Van 
Dyke. 
"  One  of  the  basic  books  of  true  Christian  thought  of  to-day  and  of 
all  times."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Van  Dyke  —  The  Spirit  of  America.     By  Henry  Van  Dyke. 

"  Undoubtedly  the  most  notable  interpretation  in  years  of  the  real 
America.  It  compares  favorably  with  Bryce's  '  American  Com- 
monwealth.' "  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

Veblen  —  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class.     By  Thorstein  B. 
Veblen. 
"  The  most  valuable  recent  contribution  to  the  elucidation  of  this 
•ubject."  —  London  Times. 

Vedder  —  Socialism   and   the   Ethics   of   Jesus.     By   Henry   C. 
Vedder. 
"  A  timely  discussion  of  a  popular  theme."  —  New   York  Post. 

Walling  —  Socialism  as  it  Is.    By  William  English  Walling. 

"...  the  best  book  on  Socialism  by  any  American,  if  not  the  best 
book  on  Socialism  in  the  English  language.    — Boston  Herald. 

Wells  —  New  Worlds  for  Old.     By  H.  C.  Wells. 

"  As  a  presentation  of  Socialistic  thought  as  it  is  working  to-day, 
this  is  the  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of 
the  general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 

8 


Weyl  —  The  New  Democracy.     By  Walter  E.  Weyl. 

"  The  best  and  most  comprehensive  survey  of  the  general  social 
and  political  status  and  prospects  that  has  been  published  of  late 
years." 

White  —  The  Old  Order  Changeth.     By  William  Allen  White. 

"  The  present  status  of  society  in  America.  An  excellent  antidote 
to  the  pessimism  of  modern  writers  on  our  social  system."  — 
Baltimore  Sun. 


AN   IMPORTANT   ADDITION   TO   THE   MACMILLAN 
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Allen  —  A  Kentucky  Cardinal.     By  James  Lane  Allen. 

"  A  narrative,  told  with  naive  simplicity,  of  how  a  man  who  was 
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fair  neighbor."  —  New   York  Tribune. 

Allen  —  The  Reign  of  Law.     A  Tale  of  the  Kentucky  Hempfields. 
By  James  Lane  Allen. 
"  Mr.  Allen  has  style  as  original  and  almost  as  perfectly  finished  as 
Hawthorne's.  .  .  .     And  rich  in  the  qualities  that  are  lacking  in  so 
many  novels  of  the  period."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Atherton  —  Patience  Sparhawk.     By  Gertrude  Atherton. 

"  One  of  the  most  interesting  works  of  the  foremost  American 
novelist." 

Child  —  Jim  Hands.     By  Richard  Washburn  Child. 

"  A  big,  simple,  leisurely  moving  chronicle  of  life.  Commands  the 
profoundest  respect  and  admiration.  Jim  is  a  real  man,  sound  and 
fine."  —  Daily  News. 

Crawford  —  The  Heart  of  Rome.     By  Marion  Crawford. 
"  A  story  of  underground  mystery." 

Crawford  —  Fair  Margaret:  A  Portrait.     By  Marion  Crawford. 

"  A  story  of  modern  life  in  Italy,  visualizing  the  country  and  its 
people,  and  warm  with  the  red  blood  of  romance  and  melodrama."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

Davis  —  A  Friend  of  Caesar.     By  William  Stearns  Davis. 

"  There  are  many  incidents  so  vivid,  so  brilliant,  that  they  fix  them- 
selves in  the  memory."  —  Nancy  Huston  Banks  in  The  Bookman. 

Drummond  —  The  Justice  of  the  King.     By  Hamilton  Drummond. 
"  Read  the  story  for  the  sake  of  the  living,  breathing  people,  the 
adventures,  but  most  for  the  sake  of  the  boy  who  served  love  and  the 
King."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  It  is  full  of  nature  in  many  phases  —  of  breeze  and  sunshine,  oi 
the  glory  of  the  land,  and  the  sheer  joy  of  living."  —  New  York 
Times. 

Gale  —  Loves  of  Pelleas  and  Etarre.     By  Zona  Gale. 

"...  full  of  fresh  feeling  and  grace  of  style,  a  draught  from  the 
fountain  of  youth."  —  Outlook. 

Herrick  —  The  Common  Lot.     By  Robert  Herrick. 

"  A  story  of  present-day  life,  intensely  real  in  its  picture  of  a  young 
architect  whose  ideals  in  the  beginning  were,  at  their  highest,  aesthetic 
rather  than  spiritual.     It  is  an  unusual  novel  of  great  interest." 

London  —  Adventure.     By  Jack  London. 

"  No  reader  of  Jack  London's  stories  need  be  told  that  this  abounds 
with  romantic  and  dramatic  incident." — Los  Angeles  Tribune. 

London  —  Burning  Daylight.     By  Jack  London. 

"  Jack  London  has  outdone  himself  in  '  Burning  Daylight.'  "  — 
The  Springfield  Union. 

Loti  —  Disenchanted.     By  Pierre  Loti. 

"  It  gives  a  more  graphic  picture  of  the  life  of  the  rich  Turkish 
women  of  to-day  than  anything  that  has  ever  been  written."  — 
Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

Lucas  —  Mr.  Ingleside.     By  E.  V.  Lucas. 

"  He  displays  himself  as  an  intellectual  and  amusing  observer  of 
life's  foibles  with  a  hero  characterized  by  inimitable  kindness  and 
humor."  —  The  Independent. 

Mason  —  The  Four  Feathers.     By  A.  E.  W.  Mason. 

"  '  The  Four  Feathers  '  is  a  first-rate  story,  with  more  legitimate 
thrills  than  any  novel  we  have  read  in  a  long  time."  —  New  York 
Press. 

Norris  —  Mother.     By  Kathleen  Norris. 

"  Worth  its  weight  in  gold."  —  Catholic  Columbian. 

Oxenham  —  The  Long  Road.     By  John  Oxenham. 

"  '  The  Long  Road  '  is  a  tragic,  heart-gripping  story  of  Russian 
political  and  social  conditions."  —  The  Craftsman. 

Pryor  —  The  Colonel's  Story.     By  Mrs.  Roger  A.  Pryor. 

"  The  story  is  one  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  Old  South  figures 
largely;  adventure  and  romance  have  their  play  and  carry  the  plot 
to  a  satisfying  end." 

XX 


Remington — Ermine  of  the  Yellowstone.     By  John  Remington. 
"  A  very  original  and  remarkable  novel  wonderful  in  its  vigor  and 
freshness." 

Roberts  —  Kings  in  Exile.     By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 

"  The  author  catches  the  spirit  of  forest  and  sea  life,  and  the  reader 
comes  to  have  a  personal  love  and  knowledge  of  our  animal  friends." 
—  Boston  Globe. 

Robins  —  The  Convert.     By  Elizabeth  Robins. 

"  '  The  Convert '  devotes  itself  to  the  exploitation  of  the  recent 
suffragist  movement  in  England.  It  is  a  book  not  easily  forgotten 
by  any  thoughtful  reader."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

Robins  —  A  Dark  Lantern.     By  Elizabeth  Robins. 

A  oowerful  and  striking  novel,  English  in  scene,  which  takes  an 
essentially  modern  view  of  society  and  of  certain  dramatic  situations. 

Ward  —  The  History  of  David  Grieve.   By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 
"  A  perfect  picture  of  life,  remarkable  for  its  humor  and  extraor- 
dinary success  at  character  analysis." 


THE   MACMILLAN    JUVENILE   LIBRARY 


This  collection  of  juvenile  books  contains  works  of  standard  quality, 
on  a  variety  of  subjects  —  history,  biography,  fiction,  science,  and 
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Altsheler  —  The  Horsemen  of  the  Plains.     By  Joseph  A.  Alt- 
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"  A  story  of  the  West,  of  Indians,  of  scouts,  trappers,  fur  traders, 
and,  in  short,  of  everything  that  is  dear  to  the  imagination  of  a  healthy 
American  boy."  —  New   York  Sun. 

Bacon  —  While  Caroline  Was  Growing.     By  Josephine  I)  ask  am 
Bacon. 
"  Only  a  genuine  lover  of  children,  and  a  keenly  sympathetic 
observer  of   human   nature,  could  have  given   us   this  book."  — 
Boston  Herald.  « 

ia 


Carroll  —  Alice's  Adventures,  and  Through  the  Looking  Glass.     Bv 
Lewis  Carroll. 
"  One  of  the  immortal  books  for  children." 

Dix  —  A  Little  Captive  Lad.     By  Marie  Beulah  Dix. 

"  The  human  interest  is  strong,  and  children  are  sure  to  like  it."  — 
Washington   Times. 

Greene  —  Pickett's  Gap.     By  Homer  Greene. 

"  The  story  presents  a  picture  of  truth  and  honor  that  cannot  fail 
to  have  a  vivid  impression  upon  the  reader."  —  Toledo  Blade. 

Lucas  —  Slowcoach.     By  E.  V.  Lucas. 

"  The  record  of  an  English  family's  coaching  tour  in  a  great  old- 
fashioned  wagon.  A  charming  narrative,  as  quaint  and  original  as 
its  name."  —  Booknews  Monthly. 

Mabie  —  Book  of  Christmas.     By  H.  W.  Mabie. 

"  A  beautiful  collection  of  Christmas  verse  and  prose  in  which  all 
the  old  favorites  will  be  found  in  an  artistic  setting." —  The  St. 
Louis  Mirror. 

Major  —  The  Bears  of  Blue  River.     By  Charles  Major. 
"  An  exciting  story  with  all  the  thrills  the  title  implies." 

Major  —  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill.     By  Charles  Major. 

"  A  stirring  story  full  of  bears,  Indians,  and  hidden  treasures."  — 
Cleveland  Leader. 

Nesbit  —  The  Railway  Children.     By  E.  Nesbit. 

"  A  delightful  story  revealing  the  author's  intimate  knowledge  of 
juvenile  ways."  —  The  Nation. 

Whyte  —  The  Story  Book  Girls.     By  Christina  G.  Whyte. 

"  A  book  that  all  girls  will  read  with  delight —  a  sweet,  wholesome 
story  of  girl  life." 

Wright  —  Dream  Fox  Story  Book.     By  Mabel  Osgood  Wright. 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  itt 
just  perspective  of  the  true  value  of  things." 

Wright  —  Aunt  Jimmy's  Will.     By  Mabel  Osgood  Wright. 
"  Barbara  has  written  no  more  delightful  book  than  this." 

i3 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

'OCT  121993 

315 

3  1158  01159  2317 


ILITY 


A  A      000  050  042   1 


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